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SHE HEARD CRIES OF 


MORE ! MORE ! ” 


To My Husband 

whose constant belief in me has 
been my inspiration 


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Introduction 


When Babs was first introduced to her 
readers she was entertaining her city cousin, 
Marjory Kennedy, in her plain lonely home 
on the shores of Moose Lake. Marjory was 
having a little difficulty in adjusting herself 
to the new manner of living that the simple 
farm life offered ; she was discovering new 
ideals and pleasures in the great and wonder- 
ful outdoors Babs explained to her ; she was 
finding new friends in a class of people she 
had always thought inferior. 

Molly Henderson is one of these new 
friends. Of her poverty and loneliness and 
bravery, her determination to win an educa- 
tion and the good fortune that comes to her ; 
of Marjory^s final happy adaptation to the 
life in the woods and the love she forms for 
Babs and Babs^ friends ; of their adventures 
at camp and at the Pages^ beautiful home and 
of Marjory’s plan to have Babs and Molly 
6 


6 


Introduction 


spend the succeeding winter in New York, — 
of all these things you have learned in Babs/^ 
When Babs finds herself in Marjory^s spa- 
cious home in Birchwood she wonders how 
she is going to like her year in civilization. 
Marjory has told her how little real winter 
they have and Babs cannot imagine a good 
time without ice and snow and zero weather. 
However, she finds that Birchwood offers 
plenty of entertainment for her. There is a 
Camp Fire Club organized which holds out 
activities into which Babs enters whole-heart- 
edly, and Molly has a share in the fun. 


Contents 


I. 

The Arrival in New York 


. 11 

II. 

The First Day. 


• ^9 

III. 

School Days 


• 45 

IV. 

The Club House 


62 

V. 

Molly .... 


. 78 

VI. 

Snow-Shoeing . 


. 102 

VII. 

The First Ceremonial Meeting 

112 

VIII. 

The Skating Party . 


I 2 I 

IX. 

A Christmas Surprise 


. 140 

X. 

The Holidays . 


. 152 

XL 

Midyears .... 


• 173 

XII. 

The Cave .... 


. 200 

XIII. 

Barbara’s First Dance 


212 

XIV. 

Lost 


224 

XV. 

The First Fire Makers . 


. 238 

XVI. 

A Burglar Scare 


. 249 

XVII. 

Good News and Bad 


261 

XVIII. 

A Romance Uncovered 


. 271 

XIX. 

The Wedding . 


. 286 

XX. 

The Picnic at Silver Lake 


. 297 

XXL 

The Play .... 


• 313 

XXII. 

House Hunting and Good-Bye 
7 


• 328 
















Illustrations 


PAGE 

She Heard Cries of “More ! More ! ” . Frontispiece ^ 

“ It's Exactly THE Touch ” . . . .46' 

All the Way She Whistled Joyfully . . 133*-^ 

She was Up Before the Household was Astir 226 ^ 
Two White-Clad Girls . . . .318' 


Babs at Birchwood 


/ 


Babs at Birchwood 


CHAPTER I 

THE ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK 

As the train pulled slowly into the long 
station at Grand Central, Babs sat on the edge 
of her seat, her bundles hugged tight in her 
arms, her eyes taking in everything as fast as 
she could look from one thing to another. 
Molly, to whom everything was just as new as 
to Babs, showed a little more composure and 
restraint in her manner, but it was the com- 
bined wonder and fear of what New York 
might hold for her that kept her hushed. To 
her it was an exciting event that would last 
only a short while. 

Barbara Benson, better known as Babs,” 
was on her way to New York City from Moose 
Lake, Maine, where she had lived all her four- 
teen years on a lonely farm. This was Babs^ 
first trip to any place except Skowhegan, the 
11 


12 


Babs at Birchwood 


small lumbering town near her home where 
she had gone to school, and she was quite nat- 
urally thrilled at the prospect. She was trav- 
eling with her cousin, Marjory Kennedy, who 
had spent the summer with her at Moose Lake 
and whom she was now to visit for the winter 
in her beautiful suburban home. Her other 
companion, Molly Henderson, was a dear 
friend of hers from Skowhegan, who had been 
suddenly transformed from a poor, hard-work- 
ing orphan, who had always believed herself 
a humble woodsman’s daughter, to the wealthy 
daughter of a college-bred man. Molly’s 
dream had always been to go to college, so 
now, with the money so miraculously thrust 
into her hands, she was coming to complete 
her preparation for that wonderful time in 
New York, where Marjory’s mother had ar- 
ranged for her to live with a Miss Snow, an 
old friend of Mrs. Kennedy’s. 

As the two girls loaned eagerly forward in 
increasing wonder, Marjor}^ watched them 
both with smiling face. 

This is going to be rich,” she whispered to 
herself. “Just rich. Oh, I’m so glad Babs 
could come.” 


T^he Arrival in New York 13 

And she tried to imagine what it would be 
like to be seeing it all with new eyes, as these 
two were. 

At last the train slowed and stopped. The 
girls waited until almost all the people who 
stood crowded in the aisle had pushed their 
way to the door. Babs, to whom crowds and 
close quarters were a novel experience, gasped 
a little. 

Glory I '' she said. What makes 
squash so ? There’s loads of time. I — I feel 
sort of smothered.” 

” Everybody hurries in New York,” an- 
swered Marjory. “ You’ll get used to it. It’s 
push — jam — hustle all the time, with every- 
body.” 

Finally they made their way to the door, 
and down the steps. Marjory immediately 
took the lead. 

” Stick close to me, both of you. Yes, por- 
ter, take the bag and box and those bundles, 
please. Now, girls, we’ll follow him, and 
mother’ll be right at the gate waiting for us.” 

” Is — is he a policeman ? ” asked Babs, 
pointing to the blue uniformed darkey who 
was hurrying ahead of them. 


14 Babs at Birchwood 

“ A policeman ? Marjory returned. “ Oh, 
no. You’ll see plenty of them, but this man, 
and all those others, carrying bags, are porters.” 

Are — are you sure we’ll find your mother 
all right?” asked Molly timidly. “ Seems as 
though all the people in the world were here, 
and all tearing along so fast. If you can find 
her, you’ll be a wonder.” 

Marjory laughed. 

“See that gate ahead of us? Well, the 
other side of that is a rope, to keep the people 
who are meeting this train from crowding 
around the doorway. Mother’ll be on the 
front row, right where we go through. We 
planned it all out when I found the Kents 
were going to get off up the line instead of 
coming way through to New York.” 

The porter carrying their bundles and bag 
had shot through the gate, and the three chil- 
dren hurried after him. 

“ There she is — there’s mother ! ” Marjory 
cried. “ Mother 1 Here we are,” she called 
in a low voice to a small, slender little lady 
who was eagerly scanning the people as they 
came through. And she ran quickly up to 
her, with Molly close behind. 


T^he Arrival m New York 15 

But Babs gave a hasty glance to locate 
them, and then sped after the porter, who was 
striding way ahead of them toward the wait- 
ing room. 

“ Hey ! Say I Police — porter ! she panted, 
her braids flying out behind her, her sneak- 
ered feet pat-patting the hard floor, as she zig- 
zagged her way under arms, around bags, and 
past little groups of people. “ Wait ! 

In a minute she was behind him, and seiz- 
ing his coat, she gave it a yank that halted 
him suddenly. 

“ Aunt Madge and all of ’em are way back 
there — by the gate — where we came through,” 
she gasped, turning to point. ” Oh ! Oh ! ” she 
gazed around her helplessly. Can you find 
it? There are millions of gates, and all alike, 
and I — Pm afraid Pve lost ours.” 

The surprised porter’s face spread slowly 
into a big grin, and he winked at the people 
near by, who were interestedly watching the 
little scene. Babs, utterly unconscious, stood 
sturdily before him, awaiting his answer. 

Ah reckon Ah kin fin’ yo' folks fo’ you,” 
he drawled. ” Yo’ sho’ wasn’t gwine let me 
get away wid nuffin’, was yo’?” 


i6 Babs at Birchwood 

Well, there are all the clothes Tve got, in 
that box. The bag's Marjory's and the bundle 
— oh, Molly has hers. And I'm here to visit 
all winter, so of course I don’t want to lose 
'em. And all my presents everybody gave 
me — do you like grouse ? " she demanded 
suddenly, looking up at him as she trotted 
along beside his big step. 

“ Like what, miss ? " he asked, and he 
winked again at the men they were pass- 
ing. 

“ Grouse. Cooked French-Canadian style 
— feathers and all," she explained. “ There's 
one in that hat box, — and honestly, I don't 
know what to do with it. It's good," she 
hurried on. “ Delicious. But it’s a clumsy 
thing to carry, you see, and — could you eat 
it? Would you get time between porter- 
ing ? " 

At that moment Babs found herself back at 
the gate where she had started from, and Mar- 
jory suddenly seized her arm. 

“ Babs ! Gracious, you gave us a scare. 
We couldn't see you anywhere. Mother, this 
is Barbara. Where have you been ? " 

“ Oh, Aunt Madge, I'm so glad to see you." 


"The Arrival in New York 


17 


Babs seized both her auntie’s hands in a warm 
clasp, and looked at the lovely face so softly 
framed by dark hair. Please excuse me for 
scaring you. I just had to run after the pol — 
porter. He didn’t know we had stopped, and 
I was afraid he’d lose us, and then I’d had 
no clothes.” 

Barbara, I’m glad to see you,” said Mrs. 
Kennedy, her brown eyes smiling kindly at 
the flushed face of the little girl before her, 
both the square ungloved hands still in hers. 

Barbara took time from talking to look 
back at her aunt. 

I’m going to love you, I can tell,” she said 
with a quick smile, as she took in the stylish, 
trim little flgure with its big fluffy furs of 
snow white. But my gracious, aren’t you 
roasted in those furs ? We never put ’em on 
till cold weather — snow, I mean. Where’s 
Molly?” 

Mrs. Kennedy laughed lightly, and Mar- 
jory became suddenly aware of all the amused 
glances that were coming their way. 

Mother, let’s go,” she whispered. 

Mrs. Kennedy dropped a quarter into the 
waiting porter’s hand and said something to 


i8 Babs, at Birchwood 

him in a low voice. He seized the bag and 
bundles again and started off. 

Molly has gone,” Mrs. Kennedy answered. 

Miss Snow was here and in quite a hurry, 
so they just rushed to take the subway.” 

Babs^ eyes were traveling around the big 
station, and she scarcely heard the answer. 
She flung her head back, clasped her hands 
behind her, and revolved slowly, looking and 
looking and looking. 

What is it we're in, now? Is it a palace? 
I’ve read about ’em.” 

“ No, dear. Come, we must hurry. The 
porter’s out of sight. It’s a station — Grand 
Central Station.” 

“Isn’t that porter the greatest?” giggled 
Babs, as she trotted alongside of her aunt. 
“ Why, he just flies. What’s he hurrying like 
that for? We aren’t. Molly gone, did you 
say? And I never said good-bye, and I never 
saw if Miss Snow was going to do for her to 
live with — oh, my I ” She stopped abruptly 
in dismay and gazed at her aunt. 

“ Dearie,” Mrs. Kennedy said gently, “ we’ll 
talk when we get in the automobile.” 

“ Automobile ? ” squealed Babs. “ Oh, 


The Arrival in New York 19 

gorgeousness I To go in one the first min- 
ute ! Why, that^s simply too — utterly-too- 
too.” 

Marjory's face was a bit red as she tried 
to stop Babs' chatter, that was frankly loud 
enough to be heard by all who were passing. 

“ Ssh, Babs. Don't talk so loud," she said 
in agonized tones. Everybody can hear 
you." 

“ But I’m not saying anything I shouldn't," 
returned Babs, surprised. 

Marjory fell silent. Already she saw she 
was going to be embarrassed many, many 
times by her country cousin's amazed and 
honest enthusiasm. Her mother gave her a 
warning look, and Marjory held her peace, 
though she was burning because of the stir 
they were creating. Babs looked queer 
enough anyway in her crushed tan linen 
dress, her soiled sneakers and her old-fash- 
ioned hat — but if only she'd keep still. 

At last they came to the street entrance, 
and here Babs' bewilderment kept her tongue 
quiet. Never had she dreamed of such 
confusion. People, wagons, cars, — people, 
wagons, cars, — all moving, all noisy, all look- 


20 


Babs at Birchwood 


ing as though they’d be run over by some- 
thing the next minute. Babs stopped again, 
and turned a wavering smile to her aunt. 

“ I’m simply scared to move,” she whis- 
pered. There’s so much to hit. Do we 
have to cross that street ? ” 

No, dear. We’ll get right in this lim- 
ousine, here.” And Mrs. Kennedy, with 
Babs’ hand tight in hers, led her to the open 
door where the porter had deposited their 
luggage. Babs recovered herself as she 
saw the darkey turn to go. Stooping, she 
snatched the hat box and dodged after him. 

“ Oh, you forgot,” she cried, thrusting it 
into his arms. It’s the grouse I gave you. 
You and the other — porters — go on a picnic,” 
she demanded. You’ll like it, I know.” 

And she was back by the car again in a 
flash. 

“ I didn’t want to take it,” she explained. 
'‘And I was sure he’d like it. Can’t he help 
being black like that, really ? ” 

“ Haven’t you ever seen a colored person 
before?” asked Marjory. 

" No, they’re all French-Canadians, you 
know, up home.” 


T’he Arrival in New York 21 

And then Babs stopped talking. For the 
limousine had snorted itself out of the line 
and was threading its way up the crowded 
street in alternate spurts of speed and slow 
crawls. The sensation of going without 
horses and the fear of being smashed up in 
the next breath were both so utterly new that 
Babs sat up tense and still on the edge of the 
cushioned seat. Besides, there was so much 
to see. 

As she became a little more used to it, she 
peered out of the window. It was dusk, and 
New York was just being lit up. As the 
lights flashed on, bells clanged, whistles blew, 
newsboys shrieked, people — old and young, 
rich and poor, beautiful and homely, — darted 
by, Babs spoke. 

“ My glory be, but this is messy. How does 
anybody know where he’s going? And won’t 
the wind blow over those high buildings? 
And what makes the lights go out and on 
again ? How ” 

Mrs. Kennedy and Marjory leaned back 
and laughed. Then Aunt Madge slipped her 
arm around Babs and drew her back against 
her shoulder. 


22 


Babs at Birchwood 


Little girl, little girl, you'll wear yourself 
out. It'll take me all winter to answer all 
your questions.” 

For Babs had not stopped. Exclamations 
and queries followed each other in rapid suc- 
cession as they moved on their way. It was 
all so amazing, so strange, so bewildering. 
Babs had never conceived of the sight she was 
seeing, and she was like a little child to whom 
the wonders of the earth, sea and sky were 
suddenly being revealed. 

When they came to the hotel where Mrs. 
Kennedy had planned to spend the night, she 
wondered whether there it would dawn on 
Barbara that she was not dressed suitably to 
dine in the big dining-room. As yet she had 
been serenely unconscious of herself, and no 
comparisons had entered her head. Marjory 
had always looked better dressed than she, 
and Aunt Madge, she had expected, would be 
daintiness itself in simple but beautiful 
clothes. Babs had never been taught to think 
of her appearance, and in her estimation 
clothes were a nuisance, anyway. Mrs. Ken- 
nedy pondered while she studied her niece's 
alert wondering face. She must some time 


The Arrival in New York 


23 


realize that dress has its importance and its 
place, but she must learn it in the right way, 
without hurt to her pride. 

As the limousine door was swung wide and 
Mrs. Kennedy stepped out, with Marjory be- 
hind her, Babs gave a little gasp, then hopped 
out hurriedly, and stood staring at the side- 
walk. 

Where are the trees ? she asked. ** I 
haven^t seen one since I got here.^^ 

Mrs. Kennedy took her by the hand, and as 
she led her into the hotel, she answered 
quietly : 

“ The roots canT’grow under all this paving 
and sidewalk. The only trees, practically, 
that New York has, are in the Park. We’ll 
drive there to-morrow. I’m sure you’ll like 
it.” 

Barbara said no more. With all her eyes 
she was watching. And when they entered 
the elevator and shot up to the eighth floor, she 
turned pale and seized her aunt’s hand. Once 
more behind closed doors, she drew a deep 
breath and looked around her. 

** Gold beds,” she said softly, touching the 
shining brass gently. Think of it. And — 


Babs at Birchwood 


24 

oh, a regular saint’s bathroom. It’s all white 
— even the floor, and walls.” She turned 
around with big eyes and stared at them. 
** I — never — in — my — whole — life,” she said 
slowly. “ Say, did you lose your stomach 
coming up? I’d rather walk down.” 

She opened another door, which proved to 
be a closet with a long mirror in the inner 
side. 

'' Here’s all of me — all at once,” she said to 
herself, and she turned slowly. “ So that’s 
how I look. Sort of fatter than I thought.” 

In the meantime, Mrs. Kennedy had opened 
her suitcase and spread out on the bed two 
dresses, a rose-colored one, with a black belt, 
the other a sky blue. 

'^Now, girls,” she said brightly, “I have 
a surprise for you. I’ve brought you each a 
brand new dress to wear down to dinner to- 
night, because I knew you weren’t expecting 
to stay here, and you wouldn’t have the right 
thing. Tell me how you like them, and guess 
which is whose.” 

“ Oh, oh I ” Barbara clasped her hands 
and gazed reverently at the little gowns. ” Is 
one really for me? How perfectly lovely. 


T’he Arrival in New York 25 

It’s the blue one, isn’t it? Because my hair, 
you know ” she smiled. Well, some peo- 

ple call it red, and rose won’t go with it.” 

You guessed right. Now hurry and wash, 
and slip into them.” 

When Marjory had finished, she stood be- 
fore the mirror and looked at herself. Her 
curls were brushed into a shiny mass that 
tumbled about her ears and nestled in her 
neck. Her cheeks matched her dress, and 
pretty black pumps were on her silk-stock- 
inged feet. Babs, who had been turning on 
all the faucets in the bathroom, and had 
sprinkled herself liberally, much to her 
amazement, under the shower bath, was busy 
rubbing her hair dry. 

” You’re lovely,” she cried enthusiastic- 
ally, peeping out from the folds of her 
towel. 

** All but my hair,” sighed Marjory. I do 
wish it were longer.” Marjory’s hair had 
been burned in an accident only a few weeks 
before. 

Why, it looks darling just like that, and 
besides, you weren’t going to mind,” reproved 
Babs. 


26 


Babs at Birchwood 


Barbara, do you like surprise puzzles ? 
her aunt interrupted. 

“ I should say so,'^ answered Babs, promptly. 

Anything that’s a surprise, I love.” 

“ Then,” went on her aunt, “ guess what’s 
in each of these bundles on the bed. As 
many as you guess, you may keep.” 

There were half a dozen packages wrapped 
in tissue paper, and Babs joyfully jumped to 
the fun of the game. 

Slippers ! ” she cried, pouncing on a 
knobby bundle, through which a heel stuck. 

Stockings I I can see the black shine 
through.” She swept them into her arms, and 
hugging them close, faced her aunt, her eyes 
shining with excitement. 

Did you really mean it ? About my keep- 
ing them ? Because I’m going to guess every 
one.” 

Mrs. Kennedy nodded. Her little scheme 
was working out beautifully. Babs was to be 
properly clothed, and the gifts were not mak- 
ing her sensitive. 

Babs felt of the others, all flat soft ones, and 
her guesses were more cautious. 

“Petticoats? And this wee one — must 


'The Arrival in New York 27 

be — handkerchiefs ! ” Her voice was tri- 
umphant as she tore the paper off. “ My 
glory be I Here's a whole outfit — all brand 
new — and simply beautiful — and all mine. I 
wonder " she stopped. 

“You wonder what?" asked Marjory curi- 
ously. 

“ I wonder," said Babs in an awed tone, 
“ if heaven can be any nicer than this." 

That night was an amusing one for Mrs. 
Kennedy and Marjory, and one never to be 
forgotten by Barbara. Marjory felt slightly 
embarrassed at times, for Babs' voice inevi- 
tably rose in some question or exclamation 
when the tables around them were silent. To 
Babs it was fairyland, — the music, the palms, 
and fountains, the swift-stepping, silent wait- 
ers, and beautifully gowned ladies. She 
hardly ate a thing, as course after course was 
put before her, though she examined each in 
delight, for she often found a familiar dish 
that was served in some strange but fascinat- 
ing form. 

At last they were back in their rooms again, 
and Babs' tongue wagged its last outburst. 

“ A million people — all eating at once. 


28 


Babs at Birchwood 


And some of 'em not dressed at all. Auntie, 
where were their clothes, those ladies next to 
us ? I was so ashamed. And I should think 
they'd have frozen. And were all those men 
that went around in black uniforms with 
napkins on their arms — all porters? I did 
want to jiggle their elbows, just to see some- 
thing spill down their shiny fronts." 

Finally, to stop her chatter, Mrs. Kennedy 
sent her into the adjoining room to sleep 
alone, instead of letting her stay with Mar- 
jory, as she had expected. Barbara lay a 
long time, in a new soft white nightgown 
that was the last bundle she had guessed, but 
at last she fell asleep, murmuring: 

Dear God, — don't let me wake up at 
home. Not yet. I want to finish seeing. I 
think you're wonderful to make a place like 
this. Thank you. Amen." 


CHAPTER II 


THE FIRST DAY 

The next day was still more full of wonder- 
ful experiences. There was, first of all, break- 
fast in fairyland ” again. Then there was 
another ride in the smooth-running, soft- 
cushioned limousine. And then, best of all, 
a morning full of shopping in the magnificent 
stores. 

Mrs. Kennedy had said to Barbara : 

‘‘ Dear, you are the only niece I have, and 
I love you almost as much as I do my only 
daughter. You are to spend the winter with 
us, and it's going to give me great happiness 
to make-believe you are my second little 
daughter. I want to do for you just as I do 
for Marjory, if you will let me. Now this 
morning, I had planned to buy Marjory ^s 
winter clothes, and I would love, also, to buy 
yours for you ; may I ? " 

And Barbara, who was generosity itself, and 
29 


30 


Babs at Birchwood 


would have given everything she possessed to 
those she loved, saw no reason why she should 
not accept in the same spirit, so she lifted a 
pleased and surprised face to her aunt. If 
Aunt Madge wanted to, — why, there was 
surely no reason why she shouldn’t. To 
Barbara’s simple mind came no thought of 
charity. Besides,” she said comfortably to 
herself, “ Daddy’s going to send me some 
money as soon as he can, and I’ll just give it 
all to Aunt Madge then.” 

But of course, the ten dollars that her 
daddy sent later did not begin to cover the 
cost of all the things that were bought that 
day, though Babs did not know that, then. 
For there were clothes of all kinds. There 
were, first of all, some every-day clothes,” as 
Auntie called them. There was a dark green 
dress with a black patent leather belt, a blue 
one with three ruffles down the skirt and a 
brown one with big white pockets and collar 
and cuffs. There was, too, a sailor suit for 
cold days, and a green woolly coat and tam-o’- 
shanter. There were thick brown laced boots 
— at least Auntie called them thick, though 
Babs laughed at them, and assured her the}^ 


31 


"The First Day 

looked like dancing slippers alongside of her 
usual winter boots. And there were ^‘oodles 
and oodles ” of soft white underwear. 

“ Every-day ? These for every-day ? Bar- 
bara asked in delight. Why, do you have 
parties every day ? 

And then there were also three dear little 
white dresses, all dainty lace with wide sashes 
of different colors for each. There were white 
gloves, white slippers and stockings, and 
black slippers and stockings, and a pretty 
kimono and bedroom slippers, and handker- 
chiefs by the dozen. There were hair ribbons 
even, to go with each dress, for Aunt Madge 
didn’t forget a thing, and what she might 
have overlooked, Marjory was quick to whis- 
per to her. Last but not least, came a beauti- 
ful dark blue velvet coat, trimmed with white 
fur, and a cocky three-cornered velvet hat to 
match. Babs quite lost her breath over this, 
and simply looked dumb happiness at her aunt. 

And after that glorissimus ” morning 
came luncheon in a big restaurant, and Babs 
declared the chicken salad and hot chocolate 
the most delicious she had ever tasted. In 
between bites she chattered gaily, sometimes 


32 


Babs at Birchwood 


to her aunt and cousin, sometimes to the dig- 
nified waiter, sometimes to her neighbors at 
the next table, of the ride up and down the 
moving staircase ; of the visit to Toyland, 
which kept her glowing and breathless until 
she left it ; and of the ride in the ^bus — 

up on the roof,^^ as Babs said, where she had 
sat with hands tightly clutching the railing in 
fear lest it tip over. 

Now we’ll take a quick spin through the 
park,” said Aunt Madge, as they rose. 
“ We’ll just have time before we start for 
home.” 

But this rather disappointed Barbara. 
There were trees, to be sure, and Barbara 
called a welcome to them, with both hands 
out of the window. And there were ponds, 
with pretty bridges, and waterfalls, and stately 
duck. But she was too used to big mountains 
and a vast expanse of lake to appreciate the 
milder beauty of the carefully kept park. 
The children at play interested her, and the 
animals they stopped to see quite fascinated 
her, but she felt pitifully sorry for all New 
York’s inhabitants if that was the only place 
they had to go to for a glimpse of country. 


33 


The First Day 

** Its hair is too well brushed and its teeth 
too carefully cleaned/' she said, speaking of 
the park. “And all those signs not to pick 
flowers and cut across the grass — why I It 
just takes away all the fun, I should think." 

Barbara's first sight of the poor in New 
York tore her tender heart. The ragged dirty 
newsboys with their hard faces and raucous 
voices looked so different from the unkempt 
poor at home. She could not quite explain 
it, but she felt it, and over and over she said 
as they pattered past in bare feet, — ‘^Poor 
youngsters." The crippled beggars at every 
corner horrified her, and she would not be- 
lieve that many of them were “ fakirs," try- 
ing to earn a living without working. 

“ Oh, it's awful ! " she cried. “ To see such 
people. I didn't know such terrible looking 
men lived. Oh, Auntie, can't we do some- 
thing ? " 

And then her auntie explained to her how 
all New York was trying to do for its poor. 
She told about the Community Christmas 
Trees, the bread line, Bundle Day, the gym- 
nasiums and schools that the big stores were 
organizing for their employees. She told of 


34 


Babs at Birchwood 


the clubs and lunch rooms, the playgrounds, 
the clinics where medical aid was given ; of 
the restaurants and sleeping quarters where 
food and a nighVs lodging could be bought 
for so little. And Barbara listened with eyes 
wide, while Marjory watched her silently. 

Marjory had expected the enthusiasm that 
Babs was showing, but she had not dreamed 
that Babs would see, as she was seeing, be- 
neath the glittering surface. In fact, some 
things her country cousin noticed and asked 
about, Marjory had taken for granted so long 
that they came as new to her as to Babs, and 
she began to look around with different eyes. 

By late afternoon Barbara was quite tired 
enough to sit back in the car and close her 
eyes as they started for home. To be sure, 
they kept popping open for the first five or 
ten minutes, but at last her head drooped 
wearily back against the cushion and she was 
fast asleep. Around her were packages of all 
sizes and shapes, for she had wanted to bring 
everything with her, and Aunt Madge had 
laughingly consented. Marjory looked at her 
sleeping cousin and then snuggled close to her 
mother’s arm. 


The First Day 35 

“ Hasn^t it been fan ? And isn’t she 
dear ? ” she whispered. 

Her mother smiled down at her lovingly. 
Marjory’s bobbed head rested against her 
mother’s shoulder, but the short curls were not 
the only change Mrs. Kennedy had seen. She 
had watched all day and appreciated how will- 
ingly and eagerly Marjory had let Barbara’s 
clothes be bought first, while a few months be- 
fore, Marjory would have been impatient if Babs 
had taken any time from her own shopping. 

That’s all right for me,” she had said 
hastily. “ Let’s hurry. Babs wants to look 
at slippers.” 

So when she answered her daughter, her 
voice was very tender. “ It has been fun, and 
she is dear. She’s a genuine, honest little 
girl, and I am so glad she’s to be with us this 
winter. It’s good to see you again,” she went 
on, passing her hand over the short locks. 
** My new little Marjory.” 

“ I am new,” said Marjory, thoughtfully, 
quite new inside, but, do you know ? — now 
that I’m back home again. I’m afraid, — I’m 
terribly afraid — some of the nice new me will 
wear off and show all the horrid me again.” 


36 


Babs at Birchwood 


You mustn’t let it, dear ” began her 

mother, but Marjory interrupted her. 

For instance,” she went on, I mind my 
short hair down here. I do, mother.” Her 
big eyes filled with tears. I just hate to 
face the girls, especially Clara and Gladys, — 
they are always so particular how they look. 
And, mother,” she lowered her voice again, 

Babs, — why, you know, Clara and Gladys 
will think she’s — loony — some of the things 
she says. Oh, I do hope they like her. I — I 
— well, I’m afraid she’s going to embarrass 
me lots of times.” 

'' Dear,” replied her mother, “ did you 
never embarrass Barbara ? ” 

Marjory fiushed. 

“ I’m afraid I did,” she admitted honestly, 
remembering her rudeness to Molly, and her 
refusal to shake hands with the men at the 
farm. 

“And did she show it?” pursued Mrs. 
Kennedy. 

“ Not once. All right, mother. I’ll try. I 
will. And I do love her ” 

“ She is your guest, dear, and your cousin. 
For both reasons you must never, never hurt 


37 


’The First Day 

her. She is the kind who wouldn^t forget 
even though she did forgive, and I want her 
visit to be all sunshine.’^ 

So do 1,’^ replied Marjory heartily, 
ashamed of her doubts as she glanced at Babs' 
sweet face, flushed with sleep. 

The street lights were lit and the soft dark- 
ness had shut off* the world entirely, when 
Mrs. Kennedy leaned over Barbara and 
wakened her. 

Wefll be there in a few minutes, little 
girl,"' she said gently. 

Barbara sat up immediately, her eyes bright, 
her heavy hair fallen low over her forehead. 

Oh,*' she sighed. ** I dreamed Twas a 
dream — all of it. But goody be, dreams go 
by contraries." And she swept her bundles 
up into her arms and hugged them tight. 

When they rolled up into the big white 
veranda, so stately columned and beautifully 
vined, Barbara fell speechless. And when 
the big white door was flung wide at the one 
knock Marjory gave the brass knocker, and a 
wide hall, lit by soft lights, with its polished 
floor covered by beautiful rugs, was revealed 
to her eager eyes, she suddenly felt a little 


38 Babs at Birchwood 

scared at the strangeness of this new world 
she had come to stay in for the winter. 

In the hall she lifted her eyes to the man 
who stood rigidly holding the door open, 
waiting for Mrs. Kennedy to finish giving her 
orders to the chauffeur. 

“ It^s funny,’’ she thought, “ Uncle Dick 
doesn’t speak to us — any of us. Why, I think 
it’s too queer for anything. Maybe he’s blind.” 
The horror of the thought sent her whisking 
around in front of him where she stared up 
into his face. 

” Uncle Dick,” she said softly. 

No reply. His face still held its impassive- 
ness, his eyes still were looking ahead. 

And deaf too,” thought Babs. ” How 
awful I Why didn’t they tell me? ” 

Dropping her armful of bundles on the 
floor she was about to seize his hand, when 
Mrs. Kennedy turned to enter, and Marjory, 
who had been flinging off her hat and coat in 
the hall, came back to the door. 

“ Oh, you’re si. porter ! ” she cried, suddenly 
spying his gold-buttoned suit and jubilant 
over her own discovery. And I thought 
he was Uncle Dick,” she giggled, stooping to 


39 


^he First Day 

pick up her fallen packages. Why do you 
keep a blind and deaf one ? I thought por- 
ters had to be black, too.'^ 

He^s a butler, my dear,^^ her aunt ex- 
plained. And he^s neither deaf nor blind. 
He’s just well trained not to see or hear what 
he shouldn’t see or hear.” 

Babs turned to look at him again. He had 
closed the door and was gliding quietly away 
down the hall, toward the stairs, his arms still 
rigid at his sides. 

A butler — whatever that is,” she mur- 
mured. ” And he’s not blind, ’cause he walks 
too straight, but I’ll bet a nickel he’s deaf.” 
And she nodded positively. 

Now, Marjory, take Barbara up to her 
room, dear. It’s the one next to yours. I’ll 
just speak to Marie, and be up with you. 
Never mind your bundles, sweetheart,” she 
added, turning to Babs, who was struggling 
to gather them all up for one trip. Marie 
will bring them.” 

“ But I can just as well,” protested Babs. 
“ I’m just as strong as she is. Who is she, 
anyway ? ” 

” Marie is the up-stairs maid, dear, and we 


40 


Babs at Birchwood 


pay her to wait on us, so you must learn to 
let her. Just drop them on the chair there.” 

So Babs followed Marjory up the wide 
stairs, past the fascinating landing with its 
deep-cushioned window seat, and built-in 
bookcase, to a room that overwhelmed her 
when she saw it. She followed Marjory in 
and then stood silent. 

It was the dearest yellow and white room 
she had ever dreamed of. Her eyes traveled 
quickly over the dainty yellow striped wall 
paper, with its border of roses, the yellow 
hangings that seemed to have caught and 
held the sunshine, the bowl of yellow roses on 
the white table ; then they flashed from the 
white bed to the low graceful dresser, and to 
the white window seat, stacked with fat yellow 
cushions. 

Well,” she said at last, slowly, drawing a 
long breath. Well, this is quite different 
from the room I gave you at our house. I — 
why, Marje, I wish I^d known what you were 
used to. I'd have understood your being 
homesick and not liking it there, so much 
better. Oh ! ” she looked around again. 
** Why, it's heavenly. How queer the red 


41 


T*he First Day 

blankets and box-bureau I made must have 
looked to you. IVs even more beautiful than 
Pages\^’ The Pages were city people who 
had a big summer house at Moose Lake. 

Marjory smiled happily. It was good to have 
some one love your home. She in her turn 
realized for the first time how she must have 
hurt Babs by her own contempt for the plain 
farm and its ugly rooms, and the memory of 
it made her run to her cousin and give her a 
quick kiss. 

“ You^re a dear. Now we must hurry and 
dress for dinner.^^ She threw open the door 
and admitted Marie, who silently deposited 
Babs' packages on the bed, whisked around 
and disappeared. 

** Honestly, she gives me the creeps. She 
and the butler. Only he's worse. He acts so 
dumb and deaf. Doesn't he ever speak ? " 

** He can say, * Yes, sir,' and * No, sir,' very 
nicely," replied Marjory with a twinkle. 
“ Now find a dress, — a white one, — and slip 
into it. I'll go get into mine. See, my room 
is right through this bathroom, next to yours. 
Marie will come in and fasten you up if you 
need help." 


42 


Babs at Birchwood 


And she ran through into her own pink 
room. Babs followed, indignantly demand- 
ing a glimpse, and stayed, lost in admiration 
of the dainty curly maple furniture, the soft 
pink silk bedpuff, and darling pink desk set. 

It’s perfect,” she sighed rapturously. 
‘^Just perfect. And the wall paper and 

squashy rug and all ” She stopped, for 

Marjory was pushing her toward her own 
room. 

“ You’ll never be ready in five minutes,” 
scolded Marjory. ** And that’s all the time 
you have left.” 

I will. I will,” Babs promised. 

But back in her room, she kept seeing 
things she just had to examine, and by and 
by she was peering into the drawers, and 
fingering the white bureau set so prettily 
marked with her own initials. Then came 
the bundles. Eagerly she tore them open 
until she found one of the soft white dresses, 
and the slippers and stockings. Just as she 
was struggling with the buttons down the 
back, Marie, the soft-voiced maid, came in to 
help her. 

^'How do you do?” said Barbara, holding 


43 


The First Day 

out her hand in welcome. Help me ? Why, 
yes, I can^t reach the middle of me in the 
back. Do you live here ? What do you do ? 
Maybe you're a butleress ? Are you ? ” 

Yes, miss, yes, miss. No, miss," returned 
the shiny-cheeked Marie, trying to answer all 
Babs' questions "at once. I'm the up-stairs 
maid, I am. I help you all to dress." 

Well, thank you. Is that the dinner 
bell ? How pretty." 

" It's gongs, miss. Japanese gongs. They 
are lovely, miss." 

I wish you'd stop missing me. Call me 
Barbara, please. I'll feel much more at 
home." 

Yes, miss," returned the surprised Marie. 

Babs ran quickly down-stairs, and there 
met her Uncle Dick. He was tall and broad 
and brown, and Barbara liked him immedi- 
ately. He kept asking her questions about 
her day in New York, just to hear her queer 
answers. 

After a delicious dinner that was all mixed 
up in Barbara's mind with the soft-footed, 
solemn butler, gleaming silver and rosy 
candlelight, they all went into the big living- 


44 


Babs at Birchwood 


room and the victrola was started. Babs, 
tired, sat very quietly in a big chair before 
the wide stone fireplace, and her eyes wan- 
dered from the strong kind face of Uncle 
Dick to the sweet one of Aunt Madge, and 
gradually over the paneled and raftered liv- 
ing-room that breathed out an air of comfort 
and rest. 

All too soon came bedtime, and Babs, with 
a sigh of content, rose. 

I’m having the gloriousest time,” she said 
smiling at her aunt who had slipped her arm 
about her. I love it here. I wish mother 
could see it. And do you s’pose Molly’s happy 
to-night? ” 

“ I’m sure she is,” returned her aunt. 

Some day soon we’ll go into their tiny apart- 
ment and you shall meet Miss Snow. You 
will love her, I know. And now good-night, 
sweetheart.” 

Good-night,” replied Barbara, lifting her 
face to be kissed. Don’t be s’prised if I keep 
the light on all night. My room’s too pretty 
to shut in the dark.” 


CHAPTER III 


SCHOOL DAYS 

For two weeks Marjory had a glorious 
time showing Barbara around home and 
town. The house was a big white spacious 
mansion, built in the old Southern style, with 
a hall straight through the middle and a rear 
entrance on to a beautiful garden, beyond 
which the ground sloped down in velvet turf 
to a meadow. Babs never tired of wandering 
around the house, touching with reverent 
fingers the soft hangings, gazing in admiration 
at the big pictures of her uncles and cousins, 
who were framed, some in soldiers^ uniforms, 
on the walls of the hall and stairway ; or 
tiptoeing in ecstasy over the thick noiseless 
rugs. 

« It^s — well — it^s simply too — utterly-too- 
too. That means words can^t express it,^^ she 
said to her aunt, who was amusedly watching 
her, one day. ** IPs all so just right. I love 
to look and look. This living-room, for in- 
45 


46 Babs at Birchwood 

stance/’ she gazed around at its deep cush- 
ioned chairs and davenport, at the generous 
fireplace, at the simple yet massive furniture. 

How did you know enough to put in rose- 
colored pillows and lamp shades and curtains ? 
It’s exactly the touch to warm and lighten the 
brown in here.” 

And to the town Babs immediately lost 
her heart. She loved its wide shady streets ; 
its beautifully kept residences ; its neat and 
thrifty business section ; its air of wealth and 
culture. 

“ It’s so different from anything I’ve ever 
known before — so different from Skowhegan — 
that you can’t compare them. There’s noth- 
ing here you mind looking at.” 

It’s entirely residential, that’s why,” ex- 
plained Marjory. “ We have no factories, and 
we’re too near New York for many stores to 
grow here. I like it, and I’m glad you do. 
There’s our school.” She pointed to a stone 
building high on a hill to the left of them. 
'' I wonder how you’ll like it.” 

Can’t say yet,” Babs returned frankly. 

When does it begin ? ” 

It began a few days after that. The morn- 




^■%TI 


p A^a^Kv^Ti^HHEn^H < 

#^| 



’ ^.£. TP 



( c 


ITS EXACTLY THE TOUCH 









47 


School Days 

ing that Babs was to make her first appear- 
ance Marjory overlooked her dressing with a 
critical eye. 

But why so fussy, Marje mavourneen ? 
It’ll be me they like or don’t like, — not my 
clothes.” 

Marjory shook her head wisely. 

Clothes make a difference, Babs. Re- 
member, they did with me. I thought you 
were — a sight, in your bloomers.” She 
laughed, then kissed Babs quickly. But 
I’ve learned better. Clara and Gladys and 
the rest will in time, — maybe we can teach 
them, — but don’t let’s shock them to pieces 
first. There I You look dear. Come on.” 

And Babs, radiant in her clean dainty 
clothes, followed her cousin. 

When the two of them entered the study, 
where a group of girls were gathered, Babs 
stood stock-still in the doorway, looking in 
amazed silence at the papered walls, hung 
with pictures, at the flowers in the windows, 
at the soft white curtains, the comfortable 
chairs, and long table with its centre lamp. 
The girls at first did not realize she was with 
Marjory. 


48 


Babs at Birchwood 


Hello, Marje ! they cried, for she with 
her dark beauty had always been a favorite. 
“ My gracious ! What have you done to your 
hair ? Is that the latest ? 

“ Oh, Queenie, why did you ? ” lamented a 
slender girl named Clara, who wore her golden 
hair in the newest roll, and whose skirts 
reached her high-heeled shoe tops. ** Now 
we’ll all have to follow suit.” 

Oh, no, you won’t I” Marjory cried merrily. 

It’s comfortable, to be sure. But it’s awfully 
hard to keep a hat on. Don’t copy me.” 

But how did you do it ? ” persisted Gladys. 
Gladys had a bright elfish face with a twinkle 
in her eye. Her clothes were expensive, but 
they fitted her round-shouldered figure 
poorly. 

” I burned it off,” Marjory answered simply, 
surprised that, now the moment had come to 
face these girls with her shorn head, she found 
it so easy. 

Burned it?” 

How?” 

Do tell us.” 

But Marjory shook her head. 

'' It’s a long, sad story, girls, and I haven’t 


49 


School Days 

time now. No ” she clapped her hands 

over her ears. ** Don^t ask me another ques- 
tion. I want you to meet my cousin, — the 
one I visited this summer. Babs, come here,^' 
she called. 

Just then Babs recovered her power of 
speech. 

“ Marjory Kennedy 1 she burst out. Why 
didn’t you tell me ? Why didn’t you prepare 
me? And to think how proudly I showed 
you our school.” She turned to the other 
girls, who were regarding her curiously. 

“ I wish you could see the school I’ve been 
going to,” she went on. It’s nothing but 
a boarded up box, — that’s what it is — with 
home-made chairs and board walls, — not even 
plastered ” 

She paused for breath. The other girls 
stared in surprise, and Marjory quickly threw 
herself into what might have been an embar- 
rassing silence. 

“ Never mind, Babs. It isn’t every girl 
who can go to a little country school and yet 
be able to enter the same grade as city girls. 
Babs is to visit me all winter,” she explained, 
turning to the others. And I hope we can 


50 Babs at Birchwood 

give her as good a time as she gave me last 
summer.’^ 

Babs flashed her a happy smile, and Mar- 
jory continued. 

Clara Armstrong, and Gladys Welch and 
Rosalie Wright, — three disgraces,'^ she laughed 
teasingly, “ and all boarding-school girls. 
This is Barbara Benson.'^ 

Barbara thrust out a square strong hand 
and seized Clara's slender white one. 

“ I'm so glad to meet you, — all of you." 
She beamed at them in genuine pleasure. 

Marjory has told me all about her friends," 
she went on, ‘‘ and I do hope " 

Clara lifted her hand and let it hang help- 
lessly. 

Ruined," she moaned. Broken. Use- 
less for the rest of my life. Where did you 
learn that grip, child ? Did the Indians teach 
you ? " 

Barbara missed the slight grown up patron- 
age of her tone and answered practically : 

“ Why, no. We don't have Indians up 
there. Not often. We have only Cloudface, 
— you remember, Marje. Most of the hands 
are French-Canadians." 


School Days 51 

Marjory slipped an arm across Babs' shoul- 
ders. 

“ Some time we must get Babs to tell us all 
about her home life. It’s thrilling, girls. 
She’s been lost in the mountains and had to 
wait up a tree, with wolves around the foot 
of it until her father came and found her, and 
she’s been nearly drowned in a lake, — and 
well, there’s the bell. See you later.” 

“ Say, just a minute, Marje.” Clara caught 
her arm. “ What do you say to our starting 
a Camp Fire Club for excitement this year? ” 

Marjory clapped her hands. 

"‘Great! Why haven’t we thought of it 
before? ” 

“ Do you s’pose your Cousin Phyllis Stock- 
ton would be Guardian ? ” Gladys whispered 
eagerly. “ I think she’d be a peach. She’s 
not too much older than we are, you know.” 

“ I’ll ask her,” Marjory just had time to 
answer before they filed in line to their seats 
and all talking ceased. 

With Marjory’s loyal shoulder close to hers, 
Babs did not receive the critical “ once-over ” 
that strangers were generally given. Because 
she was Marjory’s cousin and guest, she was 


52 


Babs at Birchwood 


one of them, and though that first day they 
reported her a scream because of her sturdy, 
independent, frank ways, she was neverthe- 
less liked. 

Well, how about it? '' Marjory questioned 
on their way home from school that day. 

Oh, Marjory I I love your school. I 
think it’s beautiful. But wait a minute be- 
fore you get me started. What’s this Camp 
Fire Club you all were talking about?” 

“ Oh,” Marjory looked her surprise. “Why, 
Barbara Benson, do you mean to say you 
never heard of Camp Fire? ” 

Babs shook her head. 

“ Why, my gracious I ” Marjory was aghast. 
And then she explained as well as she could 
all that she knew of the national organization 
and its purposes and ideals. 

“ I don’t know such a lot about it myself,” 
she concluded. “ But I do know it’s fun, and 
we go on picnics and things, and learn how 
to do almost everything, outdoors and in, and 
win honor beads. I’m sure you’ll like it. If 
we can get Phyllis to be our Guardian it’ll be 
a great success. Everything she has any- 
thing to do with is.” 


School Days 53 

‘‘ Who's she ? " Barbara asked. And 

what's a Guardian?" 

'‘She's my cousin. She graduated from 
Wellesley last June. Why, the Guardian 
runs the thing, and sees that we play fair, and 
decides who's ready to get a raise in rank, and 
such things. I'll call her up the minute I 
get home. There, now, I'm through. Tell 
me, Babs, how did you like the girls ? " 

“ I liked them," Babs replied heartily. 
"Just give me a little time to get used to 
them. Clara is lovely, isn't she ? Only, do 
you know ? I think she thinks too much 
about her hair and clothes. And she seems 
to be always talking about the boys. Who 
are Gerald and Bob, anyway ? " 

" Gerald Barber and Bob Longway, — the 
best looking boy in town and the funniest." 

" Are they as nice as Allen and Donald? " 
Babs demanded. 

Allen Page and his orphan cousin Donald 
were Babs’ nearest neighbors through the 
summer at Moose Lake, and the three of them 
with Marjory had had glorious times together 
during the summer. 

" Well — no," Marjory said slowly. " They're 


54 


Bahs at Birchwood 


different. Gerald’s a fusser. What did you 
think about Gladys, Babs ? ” 

“ Oh, Gladys.” Babs was thoughtful. 
Well, I think she’ll be an awfully good 
sport, but she says some mighty mean things 
sometimes, doesn’t she? ” 

‘‘It’s just a habit,” Marjory answered. 
She’s renowned for having a sharp tongue 
and she thinks it’s something to be proud of 
to have smart things ready to say. We all 
know she never means them, because she has 
the best heart in the world. You’ll not mind 
either when you know her.” 

And Rosalie,” Babs pursued. ** Rosalie 
seems sweet, but kind of scared of everybody.” 
Marjory nodded. 

“ Poor little Rosalie I She has no mother, 
you know. And no permanent home. Her 
father travels. She’s afraid to call her soul 
her own, but she is dear, in a weak sort of 
way. You know, I see these girls so differ- 
ently since my visit with you, Babs. I used 
to think they were perfect, but this morning 
when Gladys began to make fun of your 
dancing at recess I just nearly boiled over.” 

I know you did,” Babs said quickly. 


55 


School Days 

“ And you mustn’t. They won’t hurt me. 
Just so long as you and I are good friends, 
why — nothing else matters. Besides, they’ll 
get used to me — same as you did.” 

And Babs was right. It did not take her 
long to settle down into the swing of school 
life. To be sure, she was always spoken of 
as “ different.” For one thing, she was sub- 
limely unconcerned as to her appearance. If 
her shoe-string broke, it broke, and was 
quickly knotted together and left that way 
until Marie put in a new one for her. As 
with shoe-laces, so with buttons and other 
things. For another thing, Babs got along 
famously with her teachers. They one and 
all fell in love with this very natural little 
girl, who was always polite, always alert to 
learn, always conscientious about her work. 
It never occurred to her not to get her lessons 
done, or to drawl in a slow tone that she 
“ didn’t have time for French last night, 
Ma’amselle.” Lessons with her were a duty 
and a pleasant one, and she thoroughly en- 
joyed working. She wished the girls cared 
enough to rival each other more. It was not 
long before she won first place in all classes 


56 Babs at Birchwood 

except English. Here Marjory’s love of com- 
position and natural aptitude gave her full 
sway, and she held it with a zest, trying, as 
she had never tried before, to hold her own 
with Babs in other classes. 

As for the Camp Fire Club, Babs welcomed 
it with the fresh enthusiasm that was char- 
acteristic of her. Phyllis had gladly con- 
sented to be the Guardian, and within the 
week the first meeting was held in Marjory’s 
big library, with Gladys, Rosalie, Clara, Mar- 
jory and Babs as initial members. 

Phyllis Stockton, dark, slender and level- 
eyed, with an air of quiet confidence and 
merry humor, watched the group with inter- 
est before she took over the leadership. Babs, 
she thought to herself, was going through life 
with both hands held eagerly out for what- 
ever it might yield to her. She seemed on 
tiptoe with happy expectancy and was the 
kind that would get the most out of every 
experience that came to her. Marjory was 
akin to her, but she had more reserve. 
Rosalie’s timidity would cheat her of many 
good times, Phyllis decided, and Gladys 
would plunge into everything thoughtlessly. 


57 


School Day. 

Clara's dainty aloofness rather set her apart 
from the others. “ Not a good mixer," Phyllis 
thought. Well, Camp Fire will change that." 
And then she took over the leadership. 

'' In the first place, girls," she said when 
they had finally settled down to listen to the 
answers to the questions they had hurled at 
her, there must be at least six members. 
You number only five. Whom else would 
you like to take in ? " 

There was consternation for a few minutes. 
No one seemed quite to fit into the waiting 
place. Most of the girls were younger or a 
good deal older. At last Marjory spoke. 

How about Molly, Babs ? " 

Babs clapped her hands. 

"Oh, great I And won't she love it? We 
could have our meetings every Saturday, so 
she could come, — that is, if you are willing. 
Miss Stockton " 

" Phyllis, please," the girl replied. " I'm 
not so tremendously much older than you. 
Of course we can have our meetings any day 
that suits you all best. My time is my own. 
And I'm eager to fill it up. Who is Molly ? " 
So then Babs and Marjory explained to 


58 Babs at Birchwood 

Phyllis and the other three a little about 
Molly and her interesting life. The boarding- 
school girls were athrill to meet this unusual 
girl and were quite willing to include her in 
their club, so in a short time that matter was 
settled. 

Then, the next thing '' — Phyllis con- 
sulted a memorandum — “ dues are fifty cents 
a year from each girl, and of course you pay 
for your own Ceremonial dresses and all the 
honor beads you win. And you must each 
have a manual. It is recommended that the 
girls earn their own money to meet all ex- 
penses. How do you feel about that ? 

Earn it ? '' Clara spread her white hands 
helplessly. How could we girls ever earn 
money, I’d like to know ? ” 

Loads of ways,” Phyllis replied evenly. 

You were given hands and a head like 
other people — but there, I’m not going even 
to hint. I want you to decide for yourselves 
how you’re going to do it. Of course you 
could use your allowances, — save a certain 
per cent.” 

There was a chorus of groans. 

“ Class dues and Sunday School money and 


School Days 59 

sodas have to come out of mine," Gladys 
cried. 

“ Don't forget the movies/' Clara said 
slyly. 

No, nor the hair-nets and perfumes and 
powders and belts," Gladys flashed back. 

“ I take it allowances aren't big enough to 
stretch. All right then, girls. Get your 
brains to work and see how you can earn 
enough money to have a working capital for 
dress materials, etc." 

“What are the dresses made of?" Clara 
asked. 

“ Khaki." 

Clara turned up her nose. 

“ I don't think that's very pretty stuff." 

“ It's not meant to be merely pretty," 
Phyllis explained pleasantly. “ It was chosen 
for its durability, and inexpensiveness, and 
appropriateness for outdoors. If you plan 
your trimmings carefully you can make a 
very effective costume out of it." 

She pulled out of her pocket a small book. 

“ Here's a book of Indian names," she went 
on. “ You might look it over and see if you 
can find a name for the club in there." She 


6o 


Bahs at Birchwood 


tossed it to them. You can choose your 
own Indian names from there, too. Keep it 
till next meeting and pass it around, because 
you mustn’t choose your names too hastily. 
By the way, where shall we meet next time ? ” 

“ Well, with the girls all boarding-school 
girls, Phil, and Molly in New York, there’s 
no place but here or at your house, is there ? ” 
Marjory asked. Oh ! ” she clasped her 
hands. “ Can’t we have a club house ? ” 

Let’s I ” Gladys cried. 

“ Do you know of any ? ” Phyllis asked. 
The silence that followed was disheartening 
till Babs spoke. 

We might build a hut.” 

“ Build one 1 ” Again Clara was aghast at 
the seeming impossibility of the suggestion, 
but Gladys’ eyes snapped with anticipation. 

“ The Boy Scouts could help us,” she sug- 
gested. 

Surely, why not ? Any objections, Phyl- 
lis ? ” Marjory asked. 

“ Only this. You wouldn’t be able to use 
it in the winter, because you couldn’t keep it 
warm. And you’d have to build it pretty far 
out of town, because it’s all private property 


School Days 6i 

until you get way up on the Palisades. But 
cheer up, girls,'' she added brightly at sight 
of their downcast faces. I think I have an 
idea. Come to my house next meeting and 
we'll see. Get Molly out if you can. I'll 
write for the charter, and the Wohelo maga- 
zine and the manuals, and you girls choose 
your names and we'll get down to business. 
I guess that's all for to-day." She rose and 
smoothed her skirt. " So I'll be going. Good- 
night." 

“ Good-night," they cried, and Marjory fol- 
lowed her to the hall. 

“ You're a peach to give us your time," she 
whispered. " We'd rather have you than 
any one else." 

You're peaches to want me. I'm tickled 
to pieces to be doing work with girls again. I 
miss college, you know, chicken-child." She 
pinched Marjory's cheek affectionately. 

And mother doesn't want me to leave her 
all alone up in the big house, so I've tempo- 
rarily abandoned my nursing career. This 
Camp Fire comes along just in time to save 
me from Lazy-Blues. It's going to be great 
fun for us all. Good-night, dear." 


CHAPTER IV 


THE CLUB HOUSE 

“ Hello, girls I '' 

Phyllis, standing on the porch, sent a merry 
smile to the five who were trooping up 
the poplar-lined driveway to her big home. 
Molly had telephoned at the last minute that 
a bad sore throat kept her home. 

‘‘ Class, halt I '' Phyllis ran down to meet 
them and stood at attention. 

The girls responded immediately. Marjory 
with a smart salute had them lined up in a 
second. 

About face ! ” their Guardian com- 
manded. Forward march I 

And they swung back under the beautiful 
rustling poplars to the lodge at the entrance. 

'' Class, halt I she cried as they drew up 
opposite the tiny stone house. “ Left-face ! 
Forward, march ! ” 

Running ahead of them to the stone-rail- 
inged porch, she flattened herself, with her 
62 


T’he Club House 63 

arms spread, against the door and gave her 
last orders with a smile on her lips at their 
mystified faces. 

'' Class, halt I Break ranks ! Then she 
drew a long breath. Behold, girls I Your 
club house I ” 

She threw the door wide, and with cries of 
joy and squeals of surprise the girls rushed in. 

They saw a wee three-roomed house, com- 
pletely furnished to the last detail. Down- 
stairs there was quite a good sized living-room, 
with a cozy red brick fireplace built in one 
corner, and an attractively cushioned window 
seat with casement windows overlooking the 
beautiful sweep of Stockton lawns. Back of 
this was a wee kitchen, fitted with pots and 
pans and all kitchen paraphernalia that bright- 
ened Babs^ eyes and warmed her cheeks. Up 
the stairs that led from the living-room was 
tucked a tiny bedroom under the roof. 

Oh, oh ! Marjory seized Phyllis' hands 
and spun her around. You wonder I This 
is simply great. Do explain to us how it is." 

Phyllis drew the girls back to the shady 
vine-covered porch and laughed in happy mer- 
riment at their enthusiasm. 


64 


Babs at Birchwood 


“ I^m awfully glad you like it, girls, she 
said. Why, it^s just this way. Since father 
died, and the boys both married, mother and 
I didn^t like to be alone in the big house with- 
out a man, so John and his wife, good old 
Mary, have lived up there for the past five 
years, and this place is just as they left it. Of 
course, it’s awfully dusty and cobwebby, but 
that is easily fixed. It’ll be warm in the winter 
because John will keep the furnace going.” 

‘‘ And we’ll put up little blue curtains,” 
Babs murmured, ecstatically, her head on one 
side, her eyes squinted speculatively. 

Marjory laughed. 

“ Babs will be in her element. She just 
adores cleaning up and redecorating.” 

“ Well, you may have the job, my dear.” 
Clara daintily brushed her skirt free from a 
clinging cobweb. I’ll arrive when you’ve 
finished.” 

“ ‘ Glorify work,’ ” Phyllis remarked to the 
air. Part of the Camp Fire law, I believe. 
And ‘ Give service.’ ” Then she turned 
briskly to the girls. I thought we’d start 
to-day. You’ll find pails and mops and 
aprons in the kitchen closet. Barbara, I’ll 


T'he Club House 65 

appoint you Chief Big Boss. Now go to it. 
The Boy Scouts are coming over later, but I^d 
like to show them we aren't helpless, and can 
do a few things ourselves." 

Before she could finish Babs had flown into 
the house and out again and was hurling an 
apron at each girl's head. 

I’ll take the kitchen — I'm at home there. 
Marje, you go up-stairs and clean. Gladys, — 
you're a good sport — bundle the living-room 
rags out on the grass and beat them. Clara 
and Rosalie will sweep the walls and floor 
while you're doing it." 

Phyllis clapped applaudingly. 

" Splendid ! An honor bead for each of 
you that does her job well. And now I’ll go 
back to the house and look after another 
surprise I have for you." 

She was off, literally, in a cloud of dust, for 
brooms were flying frantically. In an hour’s 
time when two or three of the more curious 
Boy Scouts arrived on the scene, things were 
pretty well cleaned out. 

“ Help ? ’’ Babs cried, her arms akimbo, one 
smudge across a very pink cheek. "To be 
sure you can. Gerald — is that your name? 


66 Babs at Birchwood 

Mop my kitchen floor for me/' she com- 
manded. 

At your service." Gerald swept her a 
low bow, his dark curly hair nearly touching 
the floor. " Now and forever. I am yours 
to command." 

Clara shot a quick look at them. 

“ Oh, Gerald," she called. Give me a lift 
a minute, will you ? " 

“ Sorry," he replied gaily. " I'm already 
took. Ask Bob." 

Clara bit her lip and rather unwillingly 
contented herself with the less attractive Bob 
Longway's services. Jack Stevens was teas- 
ing Gladys, who was as spiritedly giving back 
tongue thrusts as fast as she could think of 
them. Marjory and Rosalie were resting from 
their labors and commenting freely on the 
work of the boys. 

'' Thought you came to help, Jack ? " Mar- 
jory called. Jack's broom was waving in- 
efiectually over the rug that lay at his feet. 

Don't you Boy Scouts know how to help ? " 

“ But it's all done," he complained. Ex- 
cept fussy things like dusting. You don't 
expect us to do that, do you ? " 


T’he Club House 67 

Why didn’t Mr. Lawrence come with 
you? ” 

“ Couldn’t. Had a story he had to finish 
by to-night.” 

Mr. Lawrence was the very popular scout- 
master, a writer who lived in the tiny cottage 
at the foot of the hill behind the Kennedy 
place. He was greatly beloved by his boys 
and greatly admired by Marjory, who secretly 
hoped to achieve literary triumphs herself 
some day. She always eagerly watched for a 
chance to talk with him for he knew of her 
aspiration and encouraged her in it. 

“ Come, girls I On to your jobs I Shame 
on you.” 

Babs energetically waved a dust-cloth in 
the faces of the two laggards, and sneezing, 
they went back to work. They were just 
putting the last books and cushions and vases 
in their places when they heard a tiny tinkle. 

“ A telephone, as I live and breathe I ” 
Rosalie cried. “ Oh, isn’t this perfect ? ” 
She darted to it. Hello, hello I Phyllis? 
Yes. Yes — all right.” 

She turned to the boys quickly, her pale 
face fiushed with excitement. 


68 


Babs at Birchwood 


Phyllis wants you to come up to the 
house and help bring down our surprise/' 

As they trooped out, she turned to the 
others, who, cleaned and refreshed, had sunk 
down in chairs and on cushions about the 
fireplace, where Gerald had kindled a tiny 
fire, for the house was damp. 

'' We couldn't have found a dandier Guard- 
ian if we'd hunted the world over. She seems 
just like one of us, girls, doesn't she?" 

And this house " Gladys heaved a 

tremendous sigh of pure content. ** We're 
certainly lucky." 

When the boys returned a few minutes later, 
with Phyllis, they were laden with packages. 

“Urn! What we know!" Bob smacked 
his lips. Chicken, kids, chicken I " he 
whispered audibly. 

“ Bob, hush, or I'll put you right out," 
Phyllis said. “ I will anyway. Thank you 
all very, very much. It's mean to make you 
lug our supper here and then not invite you 
to stay and eat it with us, but we have busi- 
ness to talk over. Some other time, though." 

^‘That's a promise, now, Miss Stockton," 
Gerald cried, as he backed out. 


The Club House 


69 

‘‘Yes, that's a promise," she laughed. 
“Thank you, boys. And good-night." 

She turned to the girls and snapped the 
lights on in the darkening room. 

“ I thought we'd like to have supper down 
here," she said. “And talk things over at 
our leisure. It's all right," she reassured the 
boarding-school girls. “ I telephoned Miss 
Hampton and she says you may stay." 

“ Should we like it? Well, say." 

“ If only Molly could be here," Babs 
mourned. “She'd just love this. Where'll 
we eat, — just campified, around the fire? 
Oh, that's great. I'll get the plates." 

Phyllis followed her out to the kitchen. 

“ Spotless. Who did this ? " she demanded. 

“ Yours truly." Babs grinned in delight. 
“ But the other rooms look just as nice. It 
seems to show more in a kitchen, that's all. 
Have you been up-stairs ? " 

“ No, I must go. Just as soon as I put 
this milk over for cocoa. I love a cold 
chicken and hot cocoa and lettuce sandwich 
supper, don't you? With peaches and cake 
for dessert." 

“ Nothing more to be desired," Babs 


70 


Babs at Birchwood 


asserted. “ And will you tell us more about 
Camp Fire to-night ? '' 

Phyllis nodded. And later, when supper 
was safely and comfortably out of sight and 
the dishes washed, she gathered the girls 
about the fire again and read to them from 
the Camp Fire Manual. That night the girls 
learned of the first organization of the move- 
ment ; of the officers who were running it ; 
of the ideals of the club and all it stood for. 
Together they learned the law of the fire, so 
simple, yet so full of meaning. 

“ Be trustworthy ” Babs murmured. 

I like that.^^ 

Phyllis flashed a smile at her. 

'' IPs all fine. Now, girls, I want to talk to 
you quite in a heart-to-heart way. I am tak- 
ing this Camp Fire Club of ours very seri- 
ously. I’m going to throw all of the best of 
me enthusiastically into it, and I want you 
girls to do the same. I want it to be a club 
where we work and play together, and grow 
together in the worth-while things it offers to 
us. Think over this law, girls, that you’ve 
learned to-night, and see where you feel each 
of you fail. Then let’s each of us strive to 


T^he Club House 


71 

strengthen herself in the place where she 
seems weakest liow/^ 

She paused, hesitant. It was not an easy 
thing for her to speak intimately to these 
girls whose hearts she scarcely knew. But 
she wanted them to feel that Camp Fire was 
to be a means of expressing the best that was 
in them, as well as a medium for fun and 
frolics. A glance at the faces around her 
reassured her. Babs and Marjory were aglow. 
Rosalie^s pale face was alight, as it rarely was. 
Gladys’ eyes burned dark, and Clara’s self- 
complacent manner was gone for the moment, 
and she was leaning forward, lips parted and 
eyes shining with interest. 

“ And now,” Phyllis quickly shifted from 
the serious, “ have you folks chosen a name 
for our club? ” 

Marjory answered quickly. 

“We thought we’d like Otakuye, meaning 
friendship. We’re all such good friends, you 
know, and we want to keep on being ” 

Phyllis nodded. 

“ To attain perfect friendship is an ideal 
worthy of any Camp Fire. I like that. And 
your symbol ? ” 


72 


Babs at Birchwood 


Two links, fastened together. You see 
links are a part of a chain, and friendship 
really chains the world. Links are insepa- 
rable, — and they might represent clasped 
hands, too. So we chose that.^^ Marjory’s 
face was flushed as she flnished her explana-^ 
tion. 

‘‘ Why, that’s beautiful. Did you think that 
out yourselves?” Phyllis asked in surprise. 

Marjory did,” Babs answered for her. 

And now we can get busy earning honor 
beads. You see there are seven ways in 
which to earn them — seven crafts, they are 
called here. It gives an opportunity to all 
kinds of girls in all walks of life. You cannot 
count any of these things you may have done 
in the past, but any you do from now on will 
entitle you to beads. That’s one other reason 
I’m glad we could use this club house. It 
has a kitchen, you see, and you boarding- 
school girls couldn’t possibly win many home 
craft beads without a kitchen.” 

Clara had hastily glanced over some of the 
long list of suggested ways of winning beads. 

‘'But I can’t do any of these, Phyllis,” she 
cried. “ I don’t know a thing about cooking 


The Club House 


73 

or camping, and I never was much on out- 
door sports 

“ Learn, then, child. Learn. Here’s your 
chance,” Phyllis replied gaily. 

Why, that’s half the fun, — to try new 
things,” Babs cried. Oh, look — sleep out- 
doors for two weeks I Why, I’ve done that 
loads of times ! Oh, I’m crazy about it all.” 

But it means an awful lot of work,” Clara 
demurred. 

“ Oh, don’t be a wet blanket, Clara,” Gladys 
cried sharply, and Phyllis mentally took note 
of her quick tongue. 

“ Now one thing more,” she said in her 
cool cheerful voice that smoothed troubled 
waters ; have you thought of a way to earn 
money for our treasury ? ” 

Not a glim,” Marjory wailed dolefully. 

What I Why, girls! What’s the matter 
with your heads ? There are loads of ways.” 

Well, do tell us, then,” Marjory said. Of 
course we can give a play, but it’ll take us 
weeks to choose one, and weeks to rehearse, 
and by that time it’ll be months.” 

“Anything will take time ” Phyllis 

began, when Babs interrupted. 


74 


Babs at Birchwood 


If only we could use this club house, 
somehow. It's so complete — and so darling, 
— it seems as though we ought to." She 
wrinkled her brow. 

Suddenly Marjory startled them by leaping 
to her feet. 

Girls I I have it ! The happy hunch I 
We’ll turn this into a tea room for a month I ’’ 

There was doubt on the faces of all the girls 
but Marjory soon swept it away. 

“ Oh, don’t you see ? It all flashed over 
me. With all the chickens and vegetables 
and fruit on our place and yours, Phyllis, food 
will hardly cost us anything. And this is 
right on the state road, and autos are whizzing 
by about every minute or two, — specially at 
this time of year. And if we hang out a sign 
by the road " 

“ Gerald can make it, — he’s awfully clever 
that way.’’ Gladys had caught Marjory’s en- 
thusiasm. 

“ And I can cook,’’ Babs offered. The proj- 
ect had seemed stupendous to her at first, but as 
Marjory continued talking, she was soon afire 
and ready to leap in with her usual energy. 

“ I’ll wait on table,’’ Clara said. 


The Club House 


75 


So will we,” Rosalie and Gladys cried. 
And Phyllis can keep accounts, and Pll 
see that the grub gets here, and do the order- 
ing with Babs, and run errands and wash 
dishes and — and — wave a red rag at the 
autos,” Marjory finished breathlessly. “ Oh I 
Girls, Phyllis, everybody. Say you will I ” 
How about school ? Won*t it interfere ? ” 
Phyllis glanced around at them. 

“ No ! ” they chorused. 

” Well, you must promise not to neglect les- 
sons, or I’ll stop it in the middle of its career,” 
Phyllis said, and the girls knew she meant it. 

“ We promise,” Marjory spoke for them all. 
” We get out at one o’clock,” she hurried 
on. And we can rush here and get a bite of 
lunch and serve afternoon tea and supper, and 
close the door at seven. Really, it’s practical. 
Don’t you see it is, Phyl ? ” 

Phyllis looked at the glowing faces of the 
girls and knew she would agree. 

Yes, I think it is,” she said. “ Now how 
about furnishings ? Tables and such ? ” 

“ There are plenty of dishes and things 
here. And why not use card tables? We 
must have four or five at the house. There 


76 Babs at Bhxhwood 

are five straight chairs here, and we can get a 
few more. We’ll have a table on the porch 
for warm days and two in here by the fire- 
place for cold days, and one by that darling 
casement window and another by the book- 
case. When shall we start ? ” 

Phyllis laughed. 

You certainly have swept us along, 
Marje,” she said. Well, I don’t know why 
we can’t start right away. Give us two or 
three days to get the tables here and the sign 
up, and put a little advertising in the town 
paper.” 

The girls from school will flock. There’s 
not a place in town to get decent things. The 
bakery’s not much good, and you do get sick 
of sundaes,” Clara said. 

“ We’ll have chicken potpies,” Babs said half 
aloud. And pancakes and apple salad and 
smooth chocolate pudding. I know just how 
to do it.” 

“ Now for a name,” Gladys suggested. 

The tongues all ceased and brows were 
knit in earnest thought. 

The Camp Fire Cozy Corner,” Babs sug- 
gested. 


The Club House 


11 

Sounds too exclusive. Doesn^t invite the 
mob/' Marjory objected. 

'' Eat-a-bit — or bite/' Gladys said tersely. 

'' American, to be sure, but not dainty," 
Marjory passed her criticism again. 

" Dewdrop Inn," ventured Rosalie timidly. 
Oh, no." Marjory wandered to the porch. 
" Let me think a minute — Fll get it." 

In a second she was back. 

‘ " Told you so. Picked it up out in the 
poplar-lined driveway there. The Poplar 
Tea Room. It takes U to make it PopUlar. 
How's that ? " 

Perfect," Phyllis said. “ Now, girls. I'll 
get that in the paper and one of you ask 
Gerald to make the sign and we'll open next 
Saturday. That'll give us Friday afternoon and 
Saturday to cook things. Now we must hustle 
for home. It's shockingly late. I'll chaperone 
you three back to school. All ready ? " 

" In a jiff," Marjory answered. " Lights 
out, Babs. All right. Oh, wait a minute. 
My glove. Here it is. Good-night, Phyllis. 
It’s been a great day. Good-night, girls. 
Babs and I will plan a menu that'll make 
your mouths water.” 


CHAPTER V 


MOLLY 

Molly^s sore throat developed into a bad 
case of tonsilitis and when, after two long 
weeks, she was allowed to be up and out 
again, she had so much school work to make 
up that she had to postpone her visit to Birch- 
wood, and so she missed most of the fun of 
the first month of Camp Fire and the Tea 
Room exploit. 

However, even without her capable hands, 
the girls found their business proposition 
most successful. The plan had been kept a 
surprise until the announcement in the news- 
paper. 

'‘'•The Poplar Tea Boom. 

It takes U to make it Pop Ular, 

Otakuye Camp Fire Girl^ Lodge, 
Afternoon Tea — Supper!' 

The first Saturday discovered the girls as 
busy as bees and so excited they could scarcely 
78 


79 


Molly 

contain themselves. At three promptly, 
Phyllis took her place behind the table with 
a box of change before her. Clara and Rosa- 
lie and Gladys, in stiffly starched white 
aprons over blue dresses, and little Dutch 
caps on their braided hair, fluttered to and 
from the windows to peep out. Barbara and 
Marjory in the kitchen, flushed and quivery, 
regarded their crispy salad plates ; the steam- 
ing cocoa; the thin sliced cold chicken. 

The house looked immaculate. The gray 
tinted walls harmonized beautifully with the 
blue chintz curtains, patterned with the old 
Dutch windmill that Babs had picked out. 
The rag rugs in the living-room, after they 
had been laundered, turned out to be a delft 
blue, the color of the dishes and the cushions 
in the casement window. All of the pictures 
and bric-a-brac, except a few choice ones, 
Dutch in character, had been removed. 
When Clara had suggested that the girls wear 
their hair in braids over their shoulders with 
Dutch blue dresses and white aprons and 
caps, it had been the finishing touch. 

Oh I Babs whispered as the door-bell 
tinkled and some one walked in. ** IPs here. 


8o 


Babs at Birchwood 


They^ve begun. We’re on. I mean — oh, 
well, you know.’^ 

She crept to the door and laid her ear 
against the crack just as Rosalie pushed it 
and entered. The resultant bump to Babs^ 
inquisitive head brought a squeak from her 
and a giggle from Marjory, but Rosalie was too 
engrossed in the business of the day to apolo- 
gize. 

“ Three girls from school. Chicken sand- 
wiches and cocoa for all.” 

She was the most composed one of the five. 
And as the afternoon went by and girls and 
boys flocked in out of curiosity, she kept the 
orders straighter than Clara and Gladys ; 
straighter even than Babs in the kitchen, and 
she remembered the charges with amazing 
accuracy when the guests forgot. 

Their first day was pronounced a wild suc- 
cess, though it left the girls aching from 
weariness. The next week, as the town grew 
more accustomed to the innovation and the 
allowances of their friends dwindled, the 
Ptakuye Camp Fire girls had to depend 
solely on road guests. They were unusually 
well situated to attract the passing eye, and 


8i 


Molly 

many people, on their way home from trips 
of all kinds, preferred a dainty bite of supper 
ill this quiet cool lodge, with its attractive 
Dutch waitresses and spotless tables, to a more 
fashionable dinner in New York. Invariably 
they asked questions until they learned that 
Camp Fire girls were doing it, and their ap- 
petites generally grew apace with their in- 
terest. 

It certainly is fun, but it certainly is 
worky'* Babs sighed, shaking the soap-suds 
from her finger-tips. I wish we could change 
off on our jobs a while. Can’t any one else 
cook ? I want a clean white apron instead of 
a dirty checked gingham.” 

You poor child. I can cook. I’ll take 

the kitchen next week. And ” Phyllis 

looked around at ihe three boarding-school 
girls. ” My dear children I Don’t any of 
you know anything about the kitchen? 
Why, this is positively disgraceful.” 

” I do — a little,” Rosalie ventured. 

Then I won’t take you. I’ll break in a 
greenhorn. Clara, my dear, yours will be the 
pleasure of donning the old checked gingham. 
You may wash it if you wish.” 


82 


Babs at Birchwood 


Clara was forlorn over the prospect, 
ril — 1^11 burn everything, and 141 just be 
awfully in the way,^^ she wailed. ** Truly, I 
will. You’ll be sorry you put me there.” 

“ At least you can wash dishes,” her guard- 
ian replied, a smile softening the sternness of 
her tones. 

So the second week Marjory sat like a lady 
at the “ change ” table and Babs, dressed in 
immaculate white, with her red gold hair 
framing her radiant face, hovered happily 
over the hungry visitors. The third week 
Babs took the kitchen again with Rosalie as 
her helper, and the last week Phyllis broke 
in Gladys. It was hard work, and tears of 
sheer weariness often dropped in the soap-suds 
while burned fingers and cut hands ached 
dreadfully. There were days when every- 
thing went all wrong ; days when things 
sailed along in great shape. But through all 
the month Phyllis was there, her presence 
unconsciously stimulating the girls to patience 
and self-control and pluck. Many were the 
honor beads that the little business women 
faithfully earned, but many more were the 
lessons each gleaned from this initial entrance 


Molly 83 

into the business world. Of course school 
work suffered a bit, but the fun and experi- 
ence they derived and the comradeship that 
the work developed more than offset the 
lower ratings. 

One evening all the Boy Scouts, — ten in 
number, — with their scout-master, Mr. Law- 
rence, appeared and demanded supper. It 
was a surprise to the girls, but after the first 
gasp, they met it with equilibrium. Babs in 
the kitchen was taxed to the uttermost, for 
the day had been long and arduous, and her 
larder was sparsely filled. It seemed to her 
that she should never get them filled up. 
They had stormed the place at five minutes 
of seven, starved after a ten mile hike, and for 
a space the girls were paralyzed. Then Babs 
put a steaming bowl of soup before their noses, 
and that was the beginning. Fortunately she 
had a dish ready that her mother had often 
used to fill up the men at the farm, and she 
turned to it with a glad heart. It was maca- 
roni, with cheese plentifully grated through 
it, and hard boiled eggs sliced into it, and a 
cream sauce poured over all. This and corn 
bread that Babs thought would never bake. 


84 Babs at Birchwood 

and cocoa, proved splendid space fillers, but 
even so she heard cries of “ More I More I 

In desperation she turned to pancakes. 
They were greeted with whoops of joy, and 
she fried and fried until she declared she felt 
like a pancake herself. However, when quiet 
crept over the company and a few groans of 
contentment indicated that nature was at last 
satisfied, the girls were fully recompensed. 
Gerald Barber, Bob Longway and Jack Stevens 
swept the girls from the kitchen peremptorily 
and proceeded to wash every dish and pot and 
pan themselves. They left the place immacu- 
late when they finally went to join the others, 
who were grouped about the fireplace pop- 
ping corn, and listening to Mr. Lawrence’s 
stories. 

And so it was not until the last Saturday 
in October, — a full two months since their 
arrival, and after the tea room had ended its 
brief existence, that the girls and Mrs. Ken- 
nedy found an opportunity to go in and see 
Molly. On this day, Babs, dressed in her 
blue velvet dress and velvet coat, with her 
three-cornered blue hat perched on her bright 
head, looked like a very different Babs from 


Molly 85 

the untidy little girl in the faded tan linen 
of a few weeks before. Now her hair was 
brushed in soft waves and tied back in her 
neck ; her feet were encased in tan lace shoes 
and tan gloves were on her hands. 

“ Do you s'pose Molly'll know me?" She 
pranced delightedly before the long mirror in 
her bathroom door. " I look so very nice, 
Fm really afraid she won't." 

Marjory smiled. 

" You look dear, Babs. That's an awfully 
becoming blue. But say, honey, take care of 
these clothes, won't you ? They're your best. 
Your every-day ones are getting shabby al- 
ready." 

" I know," Babs agreed mournfully. 

Somehow, I can't see the importance of for- 
ever fussing about how I look and so " 

she spread her hands expressively. 

But you're always tickled to pieces when 
you look nice," Marjory reminded her. It's 
just a question of leaving your things out, 
and telling Marie what you want done to 
them, you know. But you just jab them back 
in the closet " 


" I know," Babs repeated. " But please 


80 


Babs at Birchwood 


don’t scold me, Marje. We’re off on a picnic 
to-day. I’ll be good to-morrow.” 

Mrs. Kennedy was waiting for them when 
they came down-stairs, and she directed the 
chauffeur to take them straight to Miss Snow’s 
apartment. Much as Barbara enjoyed the 
ride in, she could hardl}^ wait to get there. 
Marjory and her mother kept exchanging 
amused glances, enjoying the cousin’s fresh 
enthusiasm. 

Miss Snow lived up-town in New York, and 
of course, as it was only Barbara’s second ap- 
pearance in the city, much was still strange to 
her. Suddenly she thrust her head out of the 
window. 

“ Go slowly, please,” she commanded. “ I 
can’t see quick enough.” 

How did those trains get up in the air, is 
what I want to know,” she said, pointing to 
the elevated, as they rolled under it. And 
when she saw the subway, she breathed a big 
breath, and turned to her aunt. She had seen 
only Fifth Avenue and the Park the first time 
she was in New York, and then things were 
new to her. 

You simply can’t know how wonderful 


Molly 87 

everything is to me/^ she cried, her eyes 
alight. Why, to see trains disappear in the 
earth, and cars running in the air, — it's just 
like an Aladdin fairy tale." 

People live on top of each other?" she 
queried, as she saw heads out of windows at 
all heights. ** And no porches? Or yards? 
Why, where do the children play? Oh, I 
shouldn't like that at all." 

They stopped at a neat red brick building 
on the corner of 185th Street and Amsterdam 
Avenue. Babs noticed in amazement the iron 
stairs and brick wall. 

“ Fire-proof," Marjory explained briefly as 
they climbed up. 

They went up two flights of stairs, and at 
the top of the third, a door flew open as they 
reached the small hall, and a tall girl seized a 
hand of each Marjory and Barbara, and drew 
them into the apartment. 

Babs ! Marjory I If I'm not glad to see 
you," cried Molly. “ And, oh, Mrs. Kennedy, 
you too. Please excuse me, but it's so good 
to see again somebody I know." 

Mrs. Kennedy laughed, and after shaking 
Molly's hand, she turned to Miss Snow, and 


88 


Babs at Birchwood 


the two immediately began chattering like 
the old-time friends that they were. 

Babs and Marjory, in the meantime, looked 
and looked at Molly. Such a change as they 
saw I Instead of the shabby, sad, sombre- 
dad girl they had last seen, who was run 
down as to heels, and ragged as to skirt, here 
was a happy looking young lady, in a stylish 
brown dress, her heavy brown hair fluffed 
softly about her warmly tinted cheeks, her 
twisted smile straightening into a flashing one, 
her bent shoulders held with the erectness 
that hope and joy in life bring. 

And then they began to talk, all of them 
exclaiming and questioning as fast as their 
tongues could go, but Babs was heard above 
the others, because she never stopped for 
breath. 

Molly, Molly I she cried, walking slowly 
around her friend and studying her with ad- 
miring eyes. “ Shure and Oi niver would 
know ^twas yersilf, — as Tim would say. How 
did you do it? How nice you look, — and 
happy. Really, you old dear, it^s the most 
wonderful change. And do you like it here ? 
And is school nice? 


Molly 89 

** Girls, girls, Miss Snow's merry voice 
broke laughingly in. “ Take ofif your wraps, 
and then come in the living-room and talk. 
You’ll have to come one at a time, because it's 
very tiny. Barbara, I think I haven't met 
you before." She took both Babs' hands in 
hers, and looked into her radiant face. " I 
am so glad to see you. Molly has talked 
steadily of you since her arrival.” 

She patted Molly's arm as she spoke, and 
Babs' quick eyes saw Molly's glance rest af- 
fectionately on the little plump lady. It was 
all right, then. Molly liked Miss Snow, and 
Miss Snow liked Molly. Babs' sigh was un- 
heard, but it relieved her warm loyal soul to 
know that Molly, who had ventured, friend- 
less and ignorant, into an unknown city, had 
found a heart and a home. 

They were in a wee apartment, consisting of 
two bedrooms, a bath, a living-room and a 
kitchenette. 

" It’s a joke," said Molly, showing it all to 
Babs, who was eagerly curious. “ You simply 
reach, — and everything’s at your finger-tips. 
Cook ? Yes, I cook, — when we don't go out. 
But we've been taking all our dinners in the 


90 


Babs at Birchwood 


most fascinating tea rooms and restaurants 
and queer little places. Ask Mrs. Kennedy to 
take you to the Automat, Babs. You drop a 
nickel in a slot, and your food is shot out at 
you on a plate, — really it is.’’ Babs’ incred- 
ulous face made her laugh. Isn’t New York 
wonderful ? ” she went on. Why, the things 
I’ve seen, — and places I’ve been to — it’s just 
like out of a story book.” 

Babs nodded vehemently. 

“ Isn’t it? ” she agreed. 

The two of them had so much to say, and 
so many questions to ask, and so much to 
compare, that they unconsciously left Marjory 
out of the conversation, and she slipped back 
into the living-room and began playing softly 
on the piano. Molly told of her school, her 
new acquaintances, the rapid progress she was 
making ; she told of her work in the Library, 
her walks in the Park, her shopping trips with 
^^Aunt Jule.” And through all her words 
rang a note of buoyant happiness that was 
entirely foreign to her. The very expression 
on her face was changed from passivity to an 
awakening strength and power. 

“ Some day,” Babs thought to herself, as 


Molly 91 

she looked at this new Molly, “ she’ll be 
somebody.” 

At last Molly led her into her tiny bed- 
room, where she spread out all her new 
clothes for Babs’ admiration and inspection. 

“ Money,” Molly said, “ makes all the differ- 
ence in the world. I’m just beginning to 
realize all it can do. It’s making me. It 
really is. It’s given me clothes, and with 
clothes has come a different feeling of self- 
respect, — do you understand ? ” 

Babs nodded. Her own new clothes gave 
her a dim appreciation of Molly’s feeling, 
though she had taken hers as a delightful 
surprise, and was still serenely indifferent as 
to her appearance. 

'‘And I’ve sent that present to George,” 
Molly went on. " You remember I wanted 
to, — after all his trouble to find me, and give 
me this money that’s making me so happy. 
Well, your mother wrote that he was crazy 
about books, so I bought whole sets, — Steven- 
son, Dickens, Kipling, — and loads of others, 
and seat them up to him. He wrote me the 
nicest letter, thanking me. But listen to me 
doing all the talking. Tell me yourself, you 


92 


Babs at Birchwood 


darling, how do you like it here ? '' Her gray 
eyes studied Barbara thoughtfully, as she 
waited for the answer. 

“ Yes, I do like it and no — I don^t. But 
mostly I do,” answered Babs promptly in a 
low tone. “ It's — well, it's wonderful, — that's 
all. And I'm tickled to bits that I can see all 
this kind of living and New York and all, but 
Molly,— isn't it different from dear old Moose 
Lake, and don't you get crowded and hurried 
to death sometimes ? '' 

Molly nodded understandingly. Her first 
days had been lonely and bewildering, too, 
but as she had no real home to look back to, 
and was so soon made to feel as though she 
belonged to Aunt Jule and Aunt Jule to her, 
she began thinking eagerly of the next-years. 
And as she saw her dream of college being 
gradually brought nearer, she settled into a 
happy contentment. 

“Aunt Jule is so dear, really,” she said, 
clasping her knees with her hands. “ She 
always seems to understand just how you feel. 
And she has taught me to look at New York 
as just as much a friend as Moose Lake was, 
only it's a different kind. You know, I don't 


93 


Molly 

see why she’s never married. Why, just her 
twinkly eyes and merriness and comfortable 
way of acting would invite a man to ask her 
to marry him, I should think. I don’t see 
how she’s missed it. She seems just made to 
be, but she doesn’t act lonely at all.” 

“ Oh, I can tell you a little about that.” 
Babs lowered her voice. It’s rather a sad 
story. Marje told me once when I was ask- 
ing about you and Aunt Jule. When she was 
a little girl, long before Aunt Madge knew 
her, she had loads of money and lived in a 
beautiful big house. She always played with 
a little boy who lived in another huge house 
next door. I don’t know his name but I 
know he lived there with his uncle because 
his father and mother were dead. He didn’t 
like the uncle, so when he was about fourteen 
he ran away. But first he went to say good- 
bye to Aunt Jule, and he promised her he’d 
come back when he had earned enough money 
and marry her. 

“ He had a wonderful voice, and for years 
he made his way, winning friends and sup- 
porting himself entirely. In the meantime 
Aunt Jule grew up and her family lost all 


94 


Babs at Birchwood 


their money very suddenly and her father 
died and Aunt Jule discovered she had to go 
out and earn enough to take care of her in- 
valid mother and frail little sister. She de- 
cided to be a managing housekeeper for some 
wealthy families in New York, and she lived 
along in a tiny apartment, working her head 
off but paying doctors’ bills and all the other 
expenses. She had loads of lovers but she 
wouldn’t leave her family. Besides, Aunt 
Madge says, she was waiting for the little-boy- 
next-door to come back to her.” 

Molly was listening breathlessly. She had 
always felt there was a story behind Aunt 
Jule’s life. She nodded eagerly and Babs 
went on : 

“ Well, he came, finally, but right away she 
knew he couldn’t support all three of them 
for years and years, so though she loved him 
all to pieces, she sent him away again and 
told him to marry some one else who was 
free. He vowed he wouldn’t, but he left 
her ” 

“ I don’t see why he did that,” Molly said 
hotly. 

“ Nor I,” Babs returned. “ But he did. 


95 


Molly 

And it wasn't long after that that both Aunt 
Jule's mother and sister died and she was left 
alone. And she's been alone ever since, till 
you came." 

Molly drew a long breath. 

Oh, my I " she breathed. Isn't that — 
tragic ? " 

Babs nodded. 

Did Aunt Madge ever know him ?" 

Babs shook her head. 

She didn't meet Aunt Jule until she was 
grown up and away at boarding school." 

“ Oh, I'm so sorry," Molly murmured. “ Is 
this the apartment she lived in when she was 
taking care of her mother and sister? " 

No," Babs answered. ** She couldn’t bear 
to stay there alone, so she moved here. I bet 
a nickel he's gone and married somebody else 
not half so dear as Aunt Jule. Men are like 
that," Babs ended with a worldly wise air. 

Molly laughed. 

Well, let's change the subject. Tell me 
about this Camp Fire Club. Marje I " she 
called. “ Come on in here." 

Marjory needed no second invitation. 
Curled up on the bed she and Babs talked 


96 Babs at Birchwood 

Camp Fire and Tea Room until their tongues 
ached. 

Finally Aunt Jule called them to get on 
their hats and coats, as it was lunch time. 
They went to a dainty little tea room near 
them on the block. Babs sat next to Miss 
Snow and promptly fell in love with her, as 
every one else did who met her. Something 
in her warm smile, her keen interest in other 
people, her merry humor and girlish enthusi- 
asm quite won folks’ hearts. Babs found her- 
self saying Aunt Jule ” along with Molly 
and Marjory. 

‘‘ Are you an aunt to everybody ? ” she in- 
quired. 

‘‘ To everybody who wishes me to be, 
girlie,” she replied. 

I don’t believe,” said Babs, with her usual 
frank wa}^ of thinking aloud, I don’t believe 
you know how to spell unhappy. Are you al- 
ways jolly and dear like this?” 

Miss Snow and Mrs. Kennedy exchanged 
quiet glances. 

Long, long ago,” returned Aunt Jule, 
lightly, ** in the dark ages, when I was young, 
I learned that to be happy I must forget my- 


97 


Molly 

self, and live in other folks’ lives. And that’s 
what I am doing. I’m just living in Molly’s 
school and in her plans for college, — and I 
shouldn’t wonder if I decided to go up and 
take a course myself,” she added. Do you 
s’pose they’ll admit me ? ” 

“ Wouldn’t you be cute,” said Molly dar- 
ingly, trotting around as a freshman, with 
your hair in a pigtail. And you’d have to 
take gymnasium.” 

Oh, well,” Aunt Jule’s hands clasped her 
plump, trim, stylish little figure, for she took 
great pride in the fact that she looked fully 
ten years younger than she was, and was al- 
ways dressed in quiet but perfect taste. 

Then college is out of the question for me. 
I refuse to hang by my toes for any one.” 

It was interesting to Barbara to see the ease 
and grace with which Molly carried herself in 
the tea room. She did not seem a bit the 
awkward self-conscious girl Babs remembered, 
even though the table was small, and their 
chairs crowded together. And her table man- 
ners had improved, too. She ate slowly, held 
her fork at the end of the handle, instead of 
near the prongs, and her voice, as she gave 


98 Babs at Birchwood 

her order, was low and distinct, while her 
English was quite correct. Two months had 
made a big change, Barbara decided, but, of 
course, good breeding was inherent in Molly. 
These little niceties would not have come so 
easily had she not been of gentle birth in- 
stead of the woodsman’s daughter she had al- 
ways supposed herself. 

It’s easy as pie,” she whispered to Babs, 
once when she caught her looking. I just 
sort of feel what’s right, and what’s not, and 
oh, it is so nice to have real silver and clean 
table-cloths and soft underclothes. You can’t 
know, because you didn’t board around, as I 
did ; but I tell you, I lovt it here.” 

If only Mother were here now,” said 
Babs, and at the thought tears flashed up in 

her eyes. I ” she gulped a little. “ I 

hate to think of Christmas without her.” 

Molly looked at her quickly, then away 
again, but she said nothing. 

The afternoon’s programme was to take in 
the Hippodrome. Molly had been to the 
“ movies ” several times, and once to the 
theatre, but Babs had never seen anything in 
the nature of a play. Before they started, 


99 


Molly 

however, they decided to telephone Allen and 
say Hello, so they entered a drug store near by, 
for Aunt Jule had no telephone. They found 
him at home, and he gaily insisted on a word 
with every one, even Aunt Jule, whom he 
had never seen. 

Finally Mrs. Kennedy took the receiver 
and laughingly told him if he wanted to talk 
more he must come to Birchwood to do it, 
for they must hurry on their way. 

“ Great ! ” he replied, promptly. When 
shall I come? 

^‘The first time there^s skating,^^ she re- 
turned. And bring Donald and your 
mother with you. I haven't seen her for such 
a long time, and you, — why, Allen, I don’t 
believe I’ve seen you since you were a baby.” 

“ That is a long time ago,” he said. I’m 
fast getting to be an old man ” 

But she cut off his nonsense, and remind- 
ing him that they would all be expected to 
spend the first cold Saturday in Birchwood, 
she rang ofi*, gathered her little clan together, 
and hustled them off to the performance. 

As they entered the great auditorium and 
groped their way to their seats, in the front 


100 


Babs at Birchwood 


row of the first balcony, Babs fell silent. The 
orchestra was playing a lively air, the last 
strangers were swiftly finding their places, the 
lights suddenly winked out and the great 
curtain rolled up. 

Throughout the performance Babs re- 
mained speechless, her hands clasped, her 
eyes riveted on the huge stage where such 
marvelous things were happening. The swift 
changing chorus of girls and men ; the ever 
appearing clowns ; the lively acrobats with 
their hair-raising stunts ; the ridiculous dwarf 
Chinamen ; the bicycle riders and beautiful 
skaters ; — and last of all the wonderful rose 
ladder of girls with the fountain below, and 
colored lights playing on the scene as rose 
leaves dropped gently and a big moon ap- 
peared behind, and soft music filled the air, — 
this was the climax to a breath-taking after- 
noon, and Babs gasped back a few tears at the 
sheer beauty of it. 

Oh, my I she breathed, as the orchestra 
broke into the lively air again and every one 
rose to go. Oh, my I I can^t say a word, — 

or move, — or breathe. It's — it's " she 

looked up helplessly. 


lOT 


Molly 

‘‘ Simply too-utterly-too-too/^ supplied Mar- 
jory gaily. “ Come on, little one, put on your 
hat. We have to fly now to get home in time 
for dinner.” 

“ Well, all right. Good-bye, Molly dear.” 
Babs came to herself and rose. ” Good-bye, 
Aunt Jule. I don't believe I’ll ever forget 
this afternoon. Your apartment is dear, — 
and don’t forget, the first day there’s skating 
you’re coming out to see us.” 


CHAPTER VI 


SNOW-SHOEING 

But there was a snowfall the next week 
that put an end to thoughts of skating for a 
while. Babs welcomed it with a shriek of de- 
light as she bounded out of bed and beheld 
the white world. 

“ Marje I Quick ! Look out. IsnT it 
beautiful ? Oh, let’s go snow-shoeing. Can’t 
we?” 

Babs and Marjory were the only girls in 
school who had snow-shoes, but it was not long 
before Gladys and Clara had each bought a 
pair, and the four of them started on a cross 
country walk the next day. 

” We’ll get a red honor bead for this,” Babs 
cried joyfully. 

“ It’s not a bit hard to learn, is it?” asked 
Clara surprised. 

“ I think it is/’ grunted Gladys disgustedly, 
as she stopped to fasten her snow-shoes on for 
the fourth time. 


102 


103 


Snow-Shoeing 

“ WhaVs the trouble, Glad ? '' Babs looked 
back over her shoulder. Here, let me take 
a squint. Well, no wonder.” She dropped on 
her knees and quickly unfastened Gladys' 
shoe. Wear this one of mine. Yours is 
loose and keeps flopping crooked. I won't 
mind so much because I'm used to them.” 

** Thanks. You're a peach,” said Gladys, 
which was extravagant praise for her to 
give. 

The day was a glorious one, and the girls 
walked on and on, farther than they realized. 
At last they turned their faces homeward and 
in their efforts to hurry and get back before 
the short afternoon turned to dusk, they tried 
to run a little. Clara, who had learned 
quickly to manage her shoes, went leaping 
ahead of them, when suddenly her foot caught 
on a hidden stump, and with a cry she went 
in a heap in the snow. 

“ Oh, it's my ankle, she moaned. The 
snow-shoe wouldn't let me turn it, and it's 
broken, I guess.” 

Babs dropped on her knees and felt the sore 
spot with careful fingers. 

Not broken,” she said cheerfully. Just 


104 Babs at Birchwood 

sprained. Do you think you can walk at 
all ? 

Clara tried, with white face and set teeth, 
but the effort was too* much, and shaking her 
head she sank to the ground. The girls 
looked at each other in consternation. They 
were two miles from home in a lonely stretch 
of field with no one in sight or likely to be. 

Marje, you’ll have to bustle ahead and 
get help to come back here as quickly as you 
can. You’re the best walker,” Babs said at 
last. ” Gladys and I will rig up some sort of 
a sled and get Clara over to that clump of 
woods. We can build a fire there and keep 
warm until you get back.” 

Marjory was off as she finished speaking, 
and Babs turned to the silent Clara. 

“ You’re plucky,” she said. ” Just hang on 
for a while and pretty soon we’ll have you 
comfy.” She took a knife and some bits of 
rope out of her mackinaw pocket as she talked 
and began working while Gladys watched her 
quietly. ” My pockets are just like a boy’s,” 
she went on laughing. ” I always have a 
knife and string and a nail or two. I think 
I can make my coat into a stretcher ” 


05 


Snow-Shoeing 

But Clara demurred. 

“ Babs ! Put that on again. You^re crazy.^^ 

** No, I^m not,’' Babs returned calmly. “ I’ll 
be warm enough in this sweater I have on 
underneath. Besides, I’m going to work. 
You’re sitting still. Now you see, with this 
stick through this sleeve, and this through 
thiSf and this foot rest tied across here, you’ll 
be in a regular invalid’s chair.” 

Half coaxing, half scolding, she and Gladys 
lifted the protesting Clara into the rudely de- 
vised carrier, then each seizing a sleeve of the 
coat, through which a stout stick was tied, 
they dragged Clara the short distance to the 
wooded place, where they were sheltered from 
a biting wind. Clara, of course, suffered a 
good deal from the jouncing, but she bore it 
uncomplainingly, and thanked the girls when 
she was again allowed to stretch out and rest. 

Babs stuffed under the injured foot a pillow 
of evergreen boughs that she had swiftly cut. 

Don’t you dare try to move off that coat, 
Clara Armstrong,” she said. Certainly I’m 
warm enough. I’m hustling and hustling 
here fit to keep warm, and when I get the fire 
lighted ” 


io6 Babs at Birchwood 

She was energetically rubbing sticks to- 
gether over the small scraps of dry bark and 
twigs she had piled up. Gladys, who had 
hardly said a word, but who had watched 
with hawk eyes all of Babs’ purposeful move- 
ments, started collecting more branches and 
kindling wood, and Babs nodded approval. 

That’s the stuff, Glad,” she said. Thanks 
ever so much. Ah, there’s a spark. Now, 
we’ll have a roaring fire in no time.” 

Clara forgot her pain in her interest as she 
saw Babs actually start a fire with no matches. 
Both the boarding-school girls were unused to 
the big outdoors and its wonders and possi- 
bilities and it was a revelation to them to see 
any one so resourceful and at home in the 
open. Babs felt that their interest was real, 
and she very much enjoyed explaining all she 
was doing. 

“ That’s the way the Indians start fires,” 
she said. She was feeding the tiny flame 
carefully. Not too fast, Glad. You’ll 
smother it and have it out. There, that’s go- 
ing beautifully. Now, Clara, let me see your 
foot.” 

In a professional manner, she unlaced 


Snow-Shoeing 107 

Clara^s shoe. By that time it was so swollen 
that the shoe would not come off. Babs again 
took out her knife and cleverly and quickly 
cut the shoe until Clara's poor foot slipped out 
easily. The fire kept it warm while Babs 
hastily tore a couple of strips from her petti- 
coat for a bandage, and in a short space of 
time Clara was leaning back against a tree, her 
ankle bandaged smooth and tight and kept 
warm in the muff that Gladys had insisted on 
contributing. 

“ My gloves are lined with fur," she said 
smiling as she slid the big muff over the foot. 

'' Thanks," Clara murmured, closing her 
eyes. ‘‘ Babs, you're a wonder." 

Well," Babs was wandering around collect- 
ing more fire-wood, I'm a wonder at wearing 
safety-pins instead of buttons and hooks and 
eyes, but this time they certainly were useful, 
weren't they ? " 

Clara nodded. Her foot was tightly held 
in its wrappings by pins that Babs had taken 
from her clothes. 

I'll never say another word," she mur- 
mured. Wear them in your hair if you 
like." 


io8 Babs at Birchwood 

Babs laughed. 

“ Oh, your teasing me about it didn't bother 
me — much." Then she turned and gazed 
across the field. Here they come. They’ve 
got a wagon — oh, good. Why, who is it ? ’’ 
Gerald and Bob," Gladys said. 

" Gerald and Bob ? " Clara tried to tuck her 
hair in neatly under her cap. *^My good- 
ness I And I’m such a sight. How do I look, 
Babs ? " 

Babs laughed aloud. 

“ Clara, you peacock I " she teased. I be- 
lieve if you were on your way to heaven you’d 
hold up the funeral procession until you’d 
fixed your hair to suit you." 

But when the boys arrived and saw the 
comfortable way Clara was fixed, and heard 
from Gladys how Babs had constructed the 
carrier and made the fire without matches, 
they gave their attention to her. 

Well, bully for you," Bob said admir- 
ingly. Where did you learn these tricks ? ’’ 

He looked at her in wonder. A girl who 
could do stunts like that was some girl." 
There weren’t many like that around Birch- 
wood. 


Snow-Shoemg 109 

Babs answered carelessly : 

Up home. You have to know how to do 
these things there, you know. All comfy, 
Clara ? 

Gerald was adjusting a sack at Clara's back 
for a pillow when Babs leaned over to push 
the mulF farther over her foot. 

** Just look at the neatness of that bandage," 
he remarked. Well, I guess she was your 
life saver that time, wasn't she? " 

She certainly was," Clara agreed promptly, 
though her face was white with pain. It was 
hard for her to listen to praise of others, for 
she was very fond of being the centre of 
attention and attraction when boys were 
around. But somehow Babs' quiet unconcern 
for her skill and her tender solicitude for 
Clara prevented her from harboring jealousy 
long. Her plucky answer had its own re- 
ward, for Gerald, noting her set teeth, said in 
a low voice : 

** Good stuff, Clara. I bet it hurts, all right, 
but you're certainly brave." 

I don't believe he noticed how my hair 
looked," Clara thought suddenly. “ Maybe 
boys don't. Maybe they notice more how 


no Babs at Birchwood 

you are.'' It was a new thought to Clara, and 
it remained with her. 

“ All ready, everybody ? " Bob called from 
the driver's seat. Ged ajp, 01’ Charlie I 
You’re hitched to an ambulance now ; get on 
your hospital walk.” 

The ride home was a slow progress, for 
Hospital Charlie ” certainly had a limp in 
his gait. 

It’s all I can do to hold him back,” Bob 
said, pretending to puff and haul at the reins. 
'' He’d be greased lightning if he were ahead 
of a fire engine.” 

He turned toward Gladys suddenly. 

“ Say, what do you think ? ” he demanded. 
“ Great dope. Mr. Lawrence is going to take 
us fellows camping next summer for two 
weeks. We're all of us saving allowances just 
for that.” 

“ Oh, fine ! ” Gladys cried. Where are you 
going?” 

Don’t know yet. Going to try to find a 
spot around near here. I understand Babs 
and Marjory are frequent visitors at his 
place.” 

Well, you see,” Gladys explained, he 


Snow-- Shoeing 1 1 1 

lives so near them, and he’s teaching Marjory 
a few things about writing. She’s trying to 
win prizes and things in the St. Nicholas and 
other magazines, and I guess he’s giving her 
some real help. And Babs likes him. She 
says he’s just like the people from up her 
way. He loves the outdoors, you know, and 
so does she, and he’s taken her on a few hikes 
around here.” 

Bob nodded. 

All right. Just so long as you girls don’t 
begin to think you have prior claim on him, 
’cause he’s our scout-master first and fore- 
most.” 

** Right,” Gladys said. ** Well, here we 
are. Help Gerald carry Clara, Bob. Thanks 
ever so much. Good-night, girls.” 

** Good-night,” Babs and Marjory returned. 
** Sorry it happened, Clara, but I don’t think 
it’s a bad sprain,” Babs called encouragingly. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL MEETING 

The next Saturday was to be the first cere- 
monial meeting of the Camp Fire Girls. 
That day those who were deserving would be 
raised from being merely a Camp Fire Girl to 
the rank of Wood Gatherer. Molly had come 
out early in the morning and with Babs and 
Marjory had been hustled immediately over 
to the club house. The three girls decided 
to lunch there all by themselves in secret 
society ” fashion, as Marjory observed. Their 
lunch was meagre, but exuberant spirits 
abounded. 

Molly was alight with the deep joy that oc- 
casionally stirred her to her depths. She had 
liked her school in New York, and she loved 
Aunt Jule, but the privilege of being in a club 
with Babs, who was dearer to her than any 
one else in the world, and Marjory, who held 
second place, filled her with a tremendous 
112 


The First Ceremonial Meeting 113 

content. Added to this the flavor of a club, 
the fun of a club house and the leadership 
and companionship of a girl like Phyllis 
Stockton, made life seem suddenly too rich for 
Molly, who had hitherto had so little. She 
had read her manual from cover to cover 
many times ; she knew the rules by heart ; 
the requirements for each different rank were 
familiar to her, and she had worked diligently 
to earn as many honor beads as the others, who 
had won a little ahead of her because of their 
Tea Room work. 

When the three boarding-school girls came 
after lunch and met Molly, her radiant happi- 
ness overcame her usual dignity and calm, and 
she found the new girls according her a 
warmth of welcome that made her feel still 
more at ease. 

I wonder how many of us Phyllis^l make 
Wood Gatherers,'’ Rosalie said, braiding her 
hair in the two braids that was the Camp Fire 
custom. 

'' Well, I know I shall not be one,'’ Molly 
said ruefully from the window seat. You 
have to attend a certain number of meetings, 
and this is my first. Pve made my dress and 


114 Babs at Birchwood 

head-band and won all the required honors, 
but '' 

“ You’ll have company,” Clara interrupted, 
stretching herself comfortably before the fire- 
place with her stiff ankle propped on a pil- 
low. ”I’ve won only half of the required 
honor beads. I’ve come to the conclusion, 
girls, that Camp Fire is a bit of a bore.” 

She clasped her hands lazily behind her 
head and yawned. 

“ ’Twouldn’t be if you weren’t lazy — and 
afraid of getting your hands dirty,” Gladys 
observed. 

“ Don’t pick on me, sister. It isn’t nice. 
Besides, I’m not equal to retaliating to-day,” 
Clara answered. 

“ Well, let’s cut out the knocking anyway,” 
Babs said, dropping a pillow on the floor and 
plumping down on it. It sounds a lot worse 
than it’s meant, and what’s the use, anyway, 
between friends? Rather a waste of wits, 
isn’t it? How about it. Glad ? ” 

Gladys started to reply when Phyllis en- 
tered, dressed in her khaki brown ceremonial 
gown, with her heavy hair hanging in two 
braids over her shoulders. 


The First Ceremonial Meeting 115 

Oh, Phil I YouVe embroidered and dec- 
orated yours — and everything ! ’’ Babs cried, 
looking with envy at their Guardian’s fringed 
and gaily beaded and embroidered dress. 
“ Did we have to ? It just says make one.’’ 

“ That’s all the books say. But you re- 
member I told you making meant fringe sewed 
on and eyelets made and hem securely in. 
Are we ready, girls ? All right, then, you all 
slip out into the kitchen and file in as we’ve 
practised. Leave your dresses and head-bands 
here in a pile where I’ll sit.” 

Phyllis stood with her back to the fire and 
the girls entered, walking with the noiseless 
Indian step and giving the hand sign of fire 
as they came opposite their Guardian. They 
formed a circle before the fireplace and stood 
waiting until Phyllis led them in the Wohelo 
cheer. Then she turned and lighting the fire, 
she repeated the ode. 

The girls had been inclined to break the si- 
lence with giggles at first, but the Guardian’s 
sweetly serious face and low tones, making 
each word ring with meaning, quieted them 
and into their hearts crept their first rever- 
ence for the ceremonial meeting. 


ii6 Babs at Birchwood 

Phyllis rose from her knees as the flame 
leaped up, and turned toward Molly. 

“ I understand that it is your desire to be- 
come a Camp Fire Girl,'’ she said. 

Molly's eyes were dark with happiness as 
she answered. The girl comradeship, of 
which her life had been so empty before, 
promised such joy to her. 

“ It is my desire to become a Camp Fire 
Girl, oh Guardian," she replied. “ And I 
pledge myself to follow the law of the Fire, 
which is — ‘ Seek beauty, give service, pursue 
knowledge, be trustworthy, glorify work, hold 
on to health and be happy.' " 

“ Then, Molly Henderson," Phyllis stepped 
forward and took both the girl's hands, we 
give you a royal welcome into our Otakuye 
Camp Fire Circle. May you And here, in 
each of your comrades, a true blue friend." 

At her signal they all seated themselves on 
the floor and Phyllis picked up one of the 
ceremonial gowns from the pile beside her. 

To whom does this belong? " 

" It is mine, oh Guardian." Marjory leaned 
forward, flushed. I come to-day as candi- 
date for the rank of Wood Gatherer. My 


The First Ceremonial Meeting 117 

gown and head-band are there for your in- 
spection, and I have honestly won the other 
required honors.’^ 

She waited in silence while Phyllis looked 
the garment over. At last she looked up 
with a smile, and Marjory came forward, 
knelt, and had it slipped on over her head. 

“ What Indian name have you chosen, and 
why did you choose it? Phyllis asked. 

** I chose Shumulua,'’ Marjory replied. It 
means ‘ one who writes.' I chose it because 
I love writing, and because I hope to produce 
something worth while some day." 

Then, Shumulua, I give to you this Wood 
Gatherer's ring." Phyllis slid the little silver 
ring on Marjory's finger as she repeated this 
part of the ceremony. “ It bears on it seven 
fagots, symbolic of the seven points of our law, 
and three circles, standing for the three watch- 
words of our organization, — Work, Health 
and Love, from which we get our cheer, — 
Wo-he-lo. Wear this always, guard it care- 
fully and hold yourself true to the Wood 
Gatherer's Desire. Will you repeat that? " 

Marjory's voice thrilled each line with feel- 
ing. 


Babs at Birchwood 


118 


As fagots are brought from the forest 
Firmly held by the sinews that bind them, 

I will cleave to these others, my sisters, 
Wherever, whenever I find them. 

I will strive to grow strong like the pine tree. 

To be pure in my deepest desire. 

To be true to the truth that is in me 
And follow the Law of the Fire.^’ 

Molly^s gown was next picked up and ap- 
proved of, but because she had not been able 
to attend the required number of meetings 
she could not be made Wood Gatherer that 
day. Nor could Clara, who did not have 
enough honor beads to show. 

Little Rosalie, who had chosen Owaissa, 
meaning Bluebird, the bird of happiness, 
stammering through her speeches, was the 
next to become Wood Gatherer. As Phyllis 
slipped the ring on her finger, she murmured 
half to herself in heartfelt tones, — 

Oh, thank you ! 

Then Phyllis picked up Barbara's gown. 
As she held it up, Babs rather shamefacedly 
acknowledged it as hers. The Guardian^s face 
sobered as she silently pointed out the crooked 


The First Ceremonial Meeting 119 

seams, half loose fringe, and unfinished eye- 
lets. 

“ Oh, it’s awful, I know.” Babs, with red 
face, grabbed for it and tucked it under one 
arm. “ Don’t look any more. But I do just 
abominate sewing.” 

There were hot tears in her eyes, for she 
knew that was no excuse. 

Clara abominates cooking and cleaning, 
too, but I have to-day given her three home- 
craft beads. This club wouldn’t amount to 
anything, girls, if I just let you do the things 
you like to do, and could do. Where would 
be the growth ? I am going to be very strict 
with all of you, — Babs is no exception, — and 
any one who does not fulfil the requirements 
cannot be honored. I hope you feel this is 
fair.” 

Babs leaned forward and spoke hastily. 

Unktahee, — Guardian, — it certainly is 
fair. It’s just as fair and square as can be. I 
knew better. I’m ashamed to death. But 
you bet your tooth-brush I’ll be ready next 
month.” 

Phyllis smiled at Babs. She liked this frank 
outdoor girl who was to winter with them. 


120 Babs at Birchwood 

— perhaps even better than the others, except 
Marjory, — but she was determined to have the 
club count for something of value in each 
girl's life, so she held fast to her purpose, and 
Babs did not receive her silver ring until the 
next month, when she proudly showed her 
neatly made gown. 

Gladys was the last. She had chosen for 
her Indian name, Onchiota, meaning Rainbow, 
because she wanted the path she made in life 
to be as radiant and full of promise as the 
rainbow. As the gown was put on and the 
ring slipped on her finger, Phyllis was sur- 
prised to see Gladys blink back a tear. 

“ It's just so beautiful, — all of it," she whis- 
pered hastily, and Phyllis nodded under- 
standingly. 

Afte^ the closing song, Phyllis called the 
meeting to order and announced that now 
with the last bills paid and all accounts set- 
tled, she could inform the girls that there was 
$67.34 in the treasury. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE SKATING PARTY 

The girls looked eagerly for a cold snap to 
come and freeze over Holly^s Pond, so that 
Molly and Donald and Allen might come out 
to Birchwood for a skating party as they had 
arranged. As luck would have it, there was 
a week of freezing weather just before Thanks- 
giving, and the holiday week-end — Saturday 
— was the time planned for the little reunion. 

Oh, I do hope this cold weather lasts,’^ 
said Marjory in school the Wednesday before 
the vacation. It^s so much warmer to-day 
that I'm afraid the ice will get soft." 

What are you planning, Queenie? A 
skating party ? " Clara approached the win- 
dow where Marjory was standing and rested 
her arm across the other's shoulder. 

Marjory nodded. 

"That's just what we are," she returned. 
" Say, I tell you what. We'll ask Bob and 
Gerald to join us, and then you and Glad 
121 


122 Babs at Birchwood 

come too. I’d like to have you meet Donald 
and Allen.” 

Who are they ? ” Clara asked. 

“ Friends of Babs’ ; I met them last sum- 
mer. You’ll like them, I’m sure. How 
about it ? ” 

Gladys is going to be away this week-end, 
but Rosalie’d come, I know. And I’d be 
crazy about it.” 

Marjory nodded and hurried after Babs, 
who was already on the road for home. 

Their New York guests all arrived early in 
the morning, glowing with the cold and 
breathless with welcomes to all. Mrs. Page, 
Miss Snow and Mrs. Kennedy immediately 
retired to the big warm living-room and sat 
cozily talking and working by the fire. The 
boys were frankly glad to see the girls, and 
exclaimed in friendliest surprise over the 
changed Babs and Molly. 

'' Babs,” said Allen, eyeing her slowly and 
carefully, you’re a beaut.” 

She was wearing her favorite color, — a 
warm brown dress that matched her red- 
brown hair, and her coat and hat were green. 

I didn’t have the faintest idea you were a 


T^he Skating Party 123 

good-looking girl/^ he went on. But gee 
whiz I You are I '' 

Babs swept him a curtsey. 

Kind sir, for those few words I give you 
thanks, she returned brightly, but in spite 
of her careless acceptance of praise, the color 
warmed her cheeks and her eyes brightened, 
for Babs was a girl, after all, and she was dis- 
covering that it was very pleasant to wear the 
right clothes at the right time. She mentally 
resolved to sew the button on her cuff that 
night, instead of wearing a gold baby pin, 
and to rub the mud spot off the elbow of her 
green coat. 

‘*You like me, do you she asked mis- 
chievously. 

** Always did,’^ he returned briefly, and 
turned to Molly. 

“ Molly I Molly I Dramatically he threw 
up his hands, and then in knightliest fashion 
he dropped on one knee, lifted her hand 
swiftly and kissed it. From a shabby or- 
phan girl to a regal New York lady. By 
Jove I How did you do it ? ” 

For one more month had still more changed 
fortunate Molly. Happiness, real love and 


124 


Babs at Birchwood 


care had filled out her cheeks so that a shy 
dimple or two appeared when she gave her 
little twisty smile. Her gray eyes, so heavily 
fringed with dark lashes, were clear and bright, 
and looked out< bravely at a friendly world. 
Her gymnasium work at school and freedom 
from hard drudgery had nearly straightened 
her shoulders, and her hands, always slender 
and aristocratic looking, but work-worn and 
rough before, were now white and smooth and 
beautifully kept. She wore a dark blue serge 
dress with an immaculate white collar and 
cuffs of fine linen, and it reached to her shoe 
tops. That, combined with the fact that she 
wore her hair heavily coiled low in her neck, 
made her look her full two years older than 
Marjory and Barbara. Realization of her 
improvement and appreciation of good breed- 
ing had already given her a quiet assurance 
and graciousness that enabled her to meet the 
boys^ fun with a calmness that surprised them. 

“ Allen, you're the same chatterbox as ever. 
But dear me I " Her face became quite de- 
mure, but her eyes twinkled. '' You’re only 
a child after all. What can one expect ? ” 

Allen pranced with glee. 


125 


The Skating Party 

Keep it up, Molly I It becomes you. Is 
this the sad and sombre girl I used to 
know?^' 

Donald said less, but his eyes were taking 
in all the changes quite as much as Allen's. 
Quietly he studied Babs to see if her life near 
New York, among the rich, was changing her 
at all, and when he satisfied himself that she 
was the same frank, impulsive, sweet girl of 
the woods, he drew close to her and stuck 
there for the rest of the day. 

Both boys were genuinely glad to see Mar- 
jory, too, and congratulated her on the growth 
of her hair. But again, as she had the sum- 
mer before, Marjory felt that she was not yet 
one of them, and it hurt her a little. She 
resolved to win Allen's attention, and hold it, 
and prove to him that she was not slipping 
back into old ways now that she was home 
again. 

Accordingly, she was at her best, and she 
found it easy soon to swing back into the 
frank comradeship of the lake with all about 
her doing it. As of old, she found herself 
talking intimately to Allen on the ice that 
afternoon. 


126 


Babs at Birchwood 


'' Babs has been such a help to me, Allen/^ 
she said, giving generous praise to her cousin. 

I’m so glad I brought her back with me. 
I’m afraid without her — and Camp Fire, — oh, 
that’s another thing — I think I might have 
gone back and been my snobby self you first 
met, but Babs just somehow seems to make 
you be your best when you’re with her. She’s 
like — like — one of those strong breezes filled 
with pine-smell that we used to get at her 
house. Do you see ? ” 

She lifted happy brown eyes to his serious 
blue ones, and waited for his answer. For a 
moment they skated hand in hand silently, 
and then just as he was getting ready to reply, 
a figure stumbled directly across their path, 
with a terrified look at them, and they had to 
stop their swinging pace to avoid knocking 
her down. 

Clara, on her knees, looked up, her face 
flushed, her golden hair peeping in curls from 
under a coyly awry blue velvet cap. 

Oh, excuse me I ” she said in pretty 
breathlessness. Hello, Marje.” Then she 
turned to Allen again. “ I’m trying so hard 
to learn to skate,” she exclaimed, “ and I — I 


*The Skating Party 127 

can't seem to. If you don't mind " She 

hesitated. “ Can you help me up? " 

He put out his hand and she clung to it 
even after she stood erect, while Marjory in- 
troduced them. 

** I'm — I'm really scared to death," she 
panted, looking with big eyes at the shore. 
" And I think my right skate is loose. Could 
you ? " Again she paused. 

Politely Allen dropped on one knee and 
fussed about her high-heeled shoes, on which 
of course her skates would not clamp firmly. 

Do you know what's the matter ? " he 
asked, looking up from his work. His hands 
were frozen, and he had not taken more than 
a minute to size her up as all looks and no 
head." She smiled down into his handsome 
face, and one hand rested on his head to steady 
herself 

“ No," she replied. But I'm sure you can 
find out." 

I have already. It's your shoes. You 
never in the world can skate, or learn to 
skate, with those silly things on your feet. 
Go home and change, and if you get back in 
time. I'll teach you. Let me help you to 


128 


Babs at Birchwood 


shore/^ he added, and ignoring her protest, he 
seized her elbows, and, skating behind her, 
shoved her across the ice to the shore. 

Back in a minute, Marje,^^ he called, and 
before her troubled eyes could stop him, he 
was away. She saw him lift his cap to Clara 
at the shore, and come flying back to her. 

“ Oh, Allen, I^m sorry. You didn’t like 
her, did you ? ” 

“She was out for looks, not skates, Marje,” 
he said. “ And I’m here to skate. I haven’t 
any use for a girl who dolls up in high heels 
and tight coats, and then teeters around and 
wants the boys to drag her home.” 

“ But Allen, I invited her to come. You've 
made her angry. I’m afraid. Let’s go get 
her.” 

“Oh, I didn't know she was one of the 
party.” He whistled. “ All right. Apology 
is in order.” 

He held out his hands, and they sped to the 
shore. But it was too late. Clara, indignant, 
and with hurt tears in her eyes, had stood on 
the shore a moment. Then seeing the others 
paired off, she suddenly yanked off her skates. 
The truth of Allen’s words sank home, and 


129 


T’he Skating Party 

though he had made her furious, she never- 
theless found herself unwillingly admiring 
his frankness. 

‘‘ I'll — I'll — show him," she decided swiftly, 
voicing the same determination Marjory had 
in regard to winning Donald's esteem the 
summer before. And to her own amazement 
she found herself hurrying back to school to 
don her usual broad-toed skating shoes and 
big comfy mackinaw. 

Babs, in the meantime, was chasing and 
racing with Donald, and Molly was leisurely, 
and in quite grown-up sedateness, skating by 
herself. When Babs realized this, she looked 
around hastily. Gerald Barber, the best 
looking boy in town," was speeding like mad 
around the pond, warming up after a polite 
crawl with Clara. 

Gerald," she called. Come here !" 

With his usual debonair manner he shot 
toward her, his cap in his hand, his black 
eyes snapping. Babs was a new girl in town, 
and he had seen her only three times, but the 
first time, — when they had helped the girls 
fix up their club room, had amused him, and 
the second and third time, — when she had 


130 


Babs at Birchwood 


proved herself so competent in woodcraft at 
the time Clara sprained her ankle, and equally 
competent as a cook when the Boy Scouts 
stormed the Tea Room, — had interested him, 
and he was glad of the opportunity to be- 
come better acquainted. 

I’d like you to meet Molly,” she said 
briefly. She’s visiting us for the day, and 
at present she’s all alone. Come on.” 

Like a flash she was off, leaving Gerald and 
Donald agape. Then they tore after her, but 
they did not reach her side until she cut a 
spread eagle beside Molly. 

Molly, this is Gerald Barber. Let’s have 
a race, Don.” 

“ Thank you, Barbara,” Gerald called after 
her. ” And may I have a race later? ” 

” Surely,” she replied, flashing a smile at 
him. 

The afternoon went like lightning. The 
girls were all good skaters, and little Rosalie, 
who was only a beginner, insistently urged 
Bob to join the others and leave her on the 
bank, for “ Tag ” and Snap-the-Whip ” were 
beyond her powers. 

” I’ll just tumble around up here at this end 


The Skating Party 131 

of the pond by myself/' she said, “ and you 
needn’t mind about me at all. I’ve got to 
learn to go by myself some time, and 1 might 
as well do it now.” 

“ Well — all right, then.” Bob had no great 
love for pale, meek Rosalie, but he was polite, 
and he only left her after protest. “ Don’t go 
too near that end, though ; that’s where the 
dam is, and the ice is thin.” 

And joyfully he was off to join the others. 

He, too, as well as Gerald, found Babs most 
interesting. She was so refreshingly different 
from the other girls, — so unconscious and fun- 
loving and simple. It did not take her long 
to rule as queen of the afternoon, and her 
voice rang out, buoyant and happy, as she 
darted here and there with all the grace of a 
wild young thing used to perfect freedom. 
She was the leader in the games ; she was the 
tease ; the good sport ; the little madcap. 
And she was the quickest of them all to real- 
ize when Marjory was tired, when Molly was 
left out. They all liked Molly, but they in- 
stinctively felt she was older, and her rather 
grave, restrained manner made them a bit 
stiff. 


132 Babs at Birchwood 

Clara, a little shamefaced, but stubbornly 
bent on seeing the thing through, returned in 
half an hour, and rejoiced that she had. 
♦Marjory's welcome was royally warm and 
Allen, surprised that she had. shown herself 
such a sport, spent a good deal of time helping 
h-er improve her skating. 

Suddenly, in the midst of a wild game of 
“Cross Tag," they heard a scream. They all 
turned, but Babs was nearest the dam, and the 
first to see that the ice had given way and 
Rosaye was fioundering in the water. There 
was a streak of brown and green and Babs was 
at the hole, fiat on her stomach, her hockey 
stick stretched out to reach Rosalie's flying 
hands. 

“ Catch on," she said, cheerfully. “ You'll 
be all right. Now hang tight. The boys will 
be here in a minute and we'll have you out. 
Don't pull." 

But Rosalie, gasping, was desperately trying 
to pull herself up by the stick, and was throw- 
ing all her weight on Babs' arms and wrists, so 
that she strained her uttermost to hold tight 
until the boys could come up. In the next 
minute they were there and Rosalie was 



ALL THE WAY SHE WHISTLED JOYFULLY 





r'“'s 










*7 ^ ^ 11 * '^ 





The Skating Party 133 

hauled out, shivering and thoroughly fright- 
ened. 

“ Now,^^ said Babs briskly, home you go. 
Never mind thanking me — anybody^d have 
done it, only I got here first. Come on. Til 
go with you.*^ 

And before much more could be said, she 
was helping scared frozen little Rosalie to the 
shore and off with her skates and up the bank. 

Meet you all at the house for supper,'^ she 
called back to the others. 

Some girl,'' commented Gerald. You 
ought to be proud to own her for a cousin, 
Marje." 

I am," she replied promptly. 

It was dusk before Babs left Rosalie in the 
teacher's care and started for Marjory's home. 
All the way she whistled joyfully, lifting her 
rosy face to the biting air, and swinging along 
in light-hearted abandon. It had been a 
lovely afternoon, and it certainly was good to 
see the Lake people again, — faithful old 
Molly, lively Allen and quiet Don. Gerald 
and Bob were nice, too, though she had scant 
patience with Gerald's eternal compliments. 

As she ran up the driveway, and into the 


134 


Babs at Birchwood 


hall, she paused a moment as she reached the 
wide living-room door, and stood by the 
hangings, looking in. It was a pretty sight. 
A big crackling fire lit up the soft darkness of 
the room and sent flying shadows around the 
walls and ceilings. Before it Marjory stood, 
her hands stretched to the warm blaze, her 
eyes smiling up at Allen, who leaned one 
elbow on the stone mantel-shelf, and talked 
down to her. Donald was on his knees pol- 
ishing his new skates with great care. Bob 
was tinkling at the piano, his shoulders 
hunched, one leg sprawled out in the room, 
his face screwed up in his earnestness. On 
the big davenport, Gerald was talking to a girl 
who looked strangely like Phyllis. 

Well, dearie, come in. We’ve been wait- 
ing for you. Is Rosalie all right now ? ” 

It was Aunt Madge’s voice coming from the 
shadows at one end of the room. Babs went 
up and slipped an arm about her neck, smil- 
ing across at Mrs. Page and Aunt Jule. 

Yes, she was just scared to death, — and a 
bit chilly. Oh, Aunt Madge, it’s been the 
nicest day, really. It’s most as good as 
home.” 


135 


The Skating Party 

Mrs. Kennedy patted her hand. 

“ I’m so glad. Your Guardian is here, my 
dear. We’ve asked her to stay for tea, as well 
as Gerald and Bob. Clara had to be at school 
by six to-night, so she couldn’t stay.” 

The long table, with its shining silver, its 
polished surface covered with dainty doilies ; 
the supper, with its inexhaustible supply of 
light puffy biscuits, and plates of fruit salad, 
surrounded by crispy green lettuce leaves, 
its hot chocolate covered with a mound of 
whipped cream, its thin sliced meat and crispy 
brown potatoes, — put Barbara in a sort of 
wonder again. It was such a contrast to 
what she was used to, and she sat there, smil- 
ing and silent, just looking and looking at the 
bright young faces around her, trying to be- 
lieve it was really she, transferred from Maine 
to Birchwood. 

After tea, Marjory went to the piano, and 
the young people sang, with Donald’s sweet 
voice leading them all. Just as Marjory had 
done at the Pages’ home the summer before, 
so now, Barbara slipped out of the group and 
curled up in a chair out of sight, where she 
could watch and listen. Bob and Allen were 


136 Babs at Birchwood 

poking each other in sly efforts to start some- 
thing without seeming to. Gerald, Donald 
and Molly and Phyllis were singing earnestly, 
trying over some college songs Phyllis had 
brought with her, and Marjory’s light fingers 
flew over the keys. 

When they grew restless with singing, they 
rolled back the furniture and rug and started 
the graphanola and danced. Babs refused to 
join them until she had had more lessons of 
Clara and Molly sat with her on the davenport. 

** Isn’t Phyllis a peach ? ” Babs asked, her 
eyes on the animated face of the girl who was 
talking to Mrs. Kennedy. “ Let’s get her 
started telling us about Wellesley.” 

She certainly is,” Molly agreed. With the 
added dignity and interest of being a college 
graduate, she seemed still more attractive. 
At their first opportunity she and Babs cor- 
nered Phyllis and plied her with questions. 
Babs had not the faintest idea that she was 
going to college, but she longed so to join 
Molly and Marjory that she was as interested 
as though her plans were as definite. Phyllis 
answered laughingly, and soon they were all 
seated around the fire with the boys popping 


T*he Skating Party 137 

corn and Phyllis, the centre of attraction, tell- 
ing about Wellesley. 

Did you like it as much as you thought 
you would ? Babs asked. 

Loved it,’^ Phyllis returned. Vwe met 
such wonderful girls and there's so much to 
do, and it's such a beautiful, beautiful place. 
We have a lake, you know " 

Oh I " Babs clasped her hands. “ Then 
that's settled. I wasn't sure where I wanted 
to go, but now I know. How big is the 
lake?" 

** About half a mile wide and a mile long, 
and three miles around. We have class crews 
and canoes, — only they're not canoes at all. 
They're light rowboats, shaped like canoes 
and fitted out with paddles." 

Is it hard work? The lessons, I mean," 
Molly inquired. 

Yes, 'tis," answered Phyllis promptly. 
'' Freshman year is good and stiff. Take all 
the time you can to prepare, and prepare well. 
Math nearly killed me." 

'' Don and I are going to Princeton next 
year, Babs, did you know that?" Allen put 
in. 


138 Babs at Birchwood 

Next year? Both of you? Oh, how 
wonderful/^ Babs^ eyes were wistful as she 
looked at these lucky people who had only to 
wish, and what they wanted they had. 

Don^s going to be a lawyer, — and Tm go- 
ing to be a — scapegoat, I guess,’’ Allen went 
on. “ Some combination. When I get in 
trouble, he gets me out. See? ” He slapped 
a friendly hand on Donald’s shoulder. 

Babs leaned back and hugged her knees. 

“ Well, you’re lucky people, that’s what 
you are. And if you don’t know it. I’ll tell 
you. Phyllis at college, Marjory and Molly 
going in two years for sure, Don and Allen 
next year, — ^what about you two ? ” She 
looked across at Gerald and Bob. 

** My Dad’s waiting for me to help him in 
his business,” Bob answered. I’ll be busi- 
ness and advertising manager of the ‘ Boys’ 
Lookout ’ soon. Look out for me.” And he 
swelled his chest over his pun. 

“ And I’m going to take an engineering 
course at Boston Tech,’' Gerald offered. 

I wonder where I’ll be and what I’ll be 
doing when you are all at college,” Babs 
mused. But before she could say any more, 


139 


The Skating Party 

Aunt Jule and Mrs. Page interrupted them 
and hustled them to get on their coats and 
wraps. Phyllis joined them, as they were to 
leave her at her home on their way. 

Babs and Marjory stood on the door-step 
waving to them until the limousine rounded 
the corner at the end of the drive, and Gerald 
and Bob, who had been on the step of it, 
leaped off and flourished their caps in a final 
farewell. 


CHAPTER IX 


A CHRISTMAS SURPRISE 

After the skating party, Rosalie was Bar- 
bara's dumb, devoted slave. Although she 
would probably not have drowned, for the 
water was not deep, she insisted that Babs 
had saved her life, and told over and over to 
the younger girls the story of her quickness. 

And in Clara there was also a change. For 
the first time in her spoiled, pampered exist- 
ence, she had been told the truth, bluntly, 
and it had set her to thinking. Unwillingly 
she found herself less charming in her own 
eyes than she had thought. Her afternoon’s 
companionship with the gay, sincere crowd of 
girls and boys whose fun was pure fun, and 
whose friendship she instinctively felt was 
worth something, had stirred in her a desire 
to be a little like them. 

“ That’s why Marjory’s so changed,” she 
decided. ** They’re all — so happy, and gen- 
erous.” 


140 


A Christmas Surprise 141 

If frankness and generosity and friendliness 
could make one as contented and attractive as 
Molly and Marjory and Babs, then there must 
be something in them, she thought, and she 
set herself quietly and resolutely to studying 
the two girls at school. 

As for Babs, her days were supremely joy- 
ous. She and Marjory had been spending a 
good deal of time at the Writer Man’s (as 
Babs called him), and had been eager and 
willing listeners as he told of his early 
struggles in learning to write. 

If you really want to, Marjory,” he said, 
“ really feel the urging in your soul all the 
time, why, begin now. And keep on. And 
keep on. It may not amount to anything, 
but it’s learning to express yourself, and 
that’s a lot.” 

‘‘ But — but I don’t know enough to write 
yet,” she protested. I haven’t lived or — or 
— thought, — or — feW 

He regarded her quietly. 

'‘Quite true. You haven’t lived long or 
felt deeply. But you won’t have to start with 
a novel, you know. You’ve lived some, and 
felt some, haven’t you? Well, then, take the 


142 


Babs at Birchwood 


every day-nesses you're familiar with, and put 
them in black and white." 

“But do you just begin?" she asked, and 
again he regarded her quietly. 

“ Well, yes and no. Of course, expression 
isn’t expression unless there is form behind 
it. Framework, you understand. Other- 
wise, it’s chaos — but there." He laughed at 
the bewildered look on her face. “ That’s be- 
yond you for a while. Better just begin — 
and bring your first efforts to me." 

Babs loved to listen to these talks, although 
they made her a bit restless. 

“ You see," she explained when she was 
alone with him once, “ I haven’t any particu- 
lar ambition itching my soul. I’m just plain 
me — growing up — and losing buttons — and 
being hilariously happy." She paused, frown- 
ing over her struggle to find words. “ What 
am I here for? Tell me that." 

She was sitting on the floor, her back 
against the settle, her hand on Sub’s head. 
In the firelight her hair gleamed gold and 
her eyes caught the yellow from the flame. 

“That’s just it," the Writer Man quickly 
understood and answered. “You’re just you 


H3 


A Christmas Surprise 

— hilariously happy. Keep on being just you 
and hilariously happy. That^s what you^re 
here for.” 

“ But is that enough ? ” she asked doubt- 
fully. 

“ Enough I Ye gods ! It's a job for a man 
any size. Stick to it, my dear, and let 
geniuses go their way. There's something 
selfish about geniuses, you know,'' he mused 
half to himself, but Babs interrupted him. 

“Oh,” she said. *'1 see. If I'm meant 
to be me, — plain, square-handed, snub-nosed, 
freckle-faced me, with a grin, why, I might 
as well be the best kind of a me possible. 
And grin as wide as I can. Is that it? ” 

“ That's it,” he agreed gravely. 

“ Well, thanks. Only let me have recess for 
a minute in the privacy of your weeny wee 
home, won't you, Mr. Writer Man ? I don't 
want to be happy now. I want to be home- 
sick. And I am.” 

Down plumped her head, and suddenly she 
choked over a sob. As suddenly she lifted 
her head again, blinking the tears back. 

“Huh I That's a great stunt, isn't it? 
Only, you see, Christmas is so nearly here, 


144 


Babs at Birchwood 


and I — I — -just want to smell home, and hug 
my mother, so there ! ” 

The tears were at the surface again and the 
Writer Man, to take her mind from her home- 
sickness, began reading a story of his to her. 
It helped for the time, but that night, — 
Christmas Eve — she sobbed herself to sleep. 

Oh, dear God,” she said in her usual 
informal prayer, “ I’m ashamed, but I’m 
sure you understand. I suppose I ought to 
thank you that Molly’s coming out to-morrow, 
but gee whiz ! Molly’s not my mother I ” 
Christmas Day dawned as it should with a 
newly fallen snow on the ground and weight- 
ing down the heavy evergreens. Sleigh-bells 
began jingling early, and Babs leaped from 
her bed and looked out of the window. 

Oh, goody I ” She clasped her hands, 
shivering in the cold air. It looks like 
home, anyway.” 

When Marie came in to help Barbara dress, 
she found her, as she usually did, all ready, 
though her room Babs always cheerfully left 
to Marie to tidy. This morning she was 
curled up on her window seat, chin in hand, 
staring out at the white world. 


A Christmas Surprise 145 

Merry Christmas, Marie,’' she said smil- 
ing. “ If you could wish and have it come 
true, what would it be ? ” 

Marie paused in her work of tidying up the 
room and smiled. She liked this little guest. 
Every one of the servants did. Babs’ friendli- 
ness had not grown less, although she was by 
now quite used to the distinction made be- 
tween servant and mistress, and treated them 
with a pretty pleasing manner that quite won 
their eager attention. 

I’d wish me and my mother were to- 
gether this day, miss,” she answered. 

Why,” Babs sat up in amazement, ‘Msn’t 
that the queerest thing ? That’s just what I’d 
wish. I was wishing it, in fact. If you wish 
on a mass of snow that tumbles off the top left 
branch of a balsam, it’s sure to come true.” 

“ Yes, miss. A balsam, miss ? How would 
one know a balsam from — from — anything 
else, miss?” 

Oh, don’t you know? Come here quick 
and I’ll show you one. You see that ever- 
green with the long needles, in bunches? 
Well, that’s a pine, and the one next to it, 
with short stiff needles all growing off the 


146 Babs at Birchwood 

sides of a main stem, — that^s a spruce. And 
that one, back of those two, and between 
them, — well, there^s your balsam.*^ 

And she pointed out the tree just as the 
wind shook a big powdery cloud of flakes 
from its top left branch. 

Wish I Hurry up ! I am,^^ she cried ex- 
citedly, and shut her eyes and breathed it 
over and over. 

Marie smiled down at her. 

“ I hope it will come true,'^ she said. 

They had all hung their stockings over the 
fireplace in the big living-room, Christmas 
Eve, — Aunt Madge, Uncle Dick, Marjory and 
Babs, — and after breakfast they flew in to see 
what each held. In the excitement of open- 
ing precious mysterious bundles, Barbara was 
quite her old self again, forgetting her home- 
sickness, and Marjory, secretly watching her, 
was glad. 

You old sweetheart,^^ Babs cried, kissing 
her cousin, to knit this luscious sweater for 
me. How did you ever find time when I 
wasn't around ? " 

Oh, I did it while you were calling on 
that neighbor of yours down the hill and 


H7 


A Christmas Surprise 

cleaning up the club house the month it was 
your job/' Marjory answered. ‘‘ But, Barbara, 
I thought you hated sewing?" 

“ I do. Hate, abominate and despise it, 
and that's a labor of love. I thought I’d 
never finish it. But it gave me an honor 
bead, anyway." 

“ It " was a bureau scarf she had painstak- 
ingly embroidered for her cousin. 

There was a brand new pair of skates for 
Babs, and a yellow woolly cap to match her 
sweater, and there were beautiful fur gloves ; 
a box of note-paper, three new books and a 
delicious box of candy. Marjory, of course, 
was showered with presents as well, and Aunt 
Madge and Uncle Dick smiled above the girls' 
happy face, in delight. 

When will Molly be here, Aunt Madge? " 
Babs asked, lifting her eager eyes to her 
auntie. 

I guess I hear them now, don't I ? " she 
returned, walking to the window and pulling 
aside the curtains. 

Oh, may I go to the door? It's so stupid 
waiting for James to huttle properly when it's 
best friends coming." 


148 Babs at Birchwood 

And without waiting for an answer, she 
sped out to the hall and flung the door wide. 

Merry Christmas ! Merry Christmas I I 
said it first. Molly, you dear. And Aunt 

Jule '' Suddenly she paused, for a third 

figure had stepped out of the car Mrs. Ken- 
nedy had sent to the station. 

“ Mother I she shrieked, and in a bound 
she stood ankle deep in the snow on the step, 
her arms frantically hugging her mother, tears 
and smiles coming at once. 

Oh, Mother, I never I Honestly, this is 
wonderful. And just a little bit ago I was 
wishing on the top left of a balsam,— ^nd here 
you are. Oh, joy I Oh, bliss, it^s — simply 
too — utterly-too-too. How did it happen ? ” 
Come inside, you wild little Indian, and 
we’ll tell you all about it.” 

Molly’s grown up tones seemed more grown 
up than ever. 

“ You did it,” Barbara guessed suddenly. 
” You did it.” She pounced on Molly and 
dragged her to the light in the living-room, 
and examined her there with a stern gaze. 
'‘Didn’t you? You old villain of a sweet- 
heart.” 


A Christmas Surp7''ise 149 

And she whirled to her mother again, nor 
would she let go of her until dinner time. 

Molly had done it. She had written to 
Mrs. Benson, and insisted that she accept it 
as a Christmas present, and as a small return 
for all Mrs. Benson had done for her in the 
days back at Moose Lake. Mrs. Benson had 
hesitated a while, but her husband had urged 
her to go, so she planned to arrive on Christ- 
mas Day, and spend the rest of the vacation 
at her sister^s home. 

Barbara was so happy she could scarcely 
contain herself. She had the most glorious 
time after the big dinner, showing her mother 
all her beautiful new clothes, and her presents, 
and her darling room. Alone up there, just 
the two of them, Babs had a long heart-to- 
heart talk with her mother. The tears came, 
but they washed away a lot of the homesick- 
ness of the last few weeks. With her head in 
her mother^s lap and Mrs. Benson's hand 
stroking her face, she talked her heart out. 

Oh," she sighed, it's so good to have you 
here. And for two more whole weeks. I 
can't quite believe it yet. I feel better al- 
ready just for talking, and I can't seem to 


150 Babs at Birchwood 

stop. Isn’t this the most wonderful house ? 
Barbara went on, sitting up. '' Did you ever 
dream of such luxury? And New York, — 
Mother ” 

Her mother nodded. It had been many 
years since she had traveled from her home 
in Maine, but she had not forgotten all the 
wonders that lay outside. 

“ And now,’’ Barbara jumped up and began 
fixing her rumpled hair, I’ve told you 
everything except about the Writer Man. 
You know him only through letters. While 
you’re here, I want you to meet him, but 
listen, Mumsey, I must go and wish him a 
Merry Christmas, with Marjory. He’s been 
so good to us, walking and skating with me 
and helping her to write.” 

Of course you must,” returned her mother 
briskly. He’s too fine a friend to neglect 
on a day like this.” 

^‘You’ll excuse me? I’ll be right back, 
and I wouldn’t go at all, except that you’re 
going to be here for two glorious weeks.” 

Her mother kissed her. 

'' Run along, sweetheart, and tell him I’m 
coming soon myself. Aunt Jule and Aunt 


A Christmas Surprise 151 

Madge and I have a lot to talk over, — we were 
all school friends, you know/^ 

Babs stood back and surveyed her mother. 
In her plain black silk dress, relieved with 
its dainty white collar and cuffs, she looked 
nicer than Babs had ever seen her. Her hair 
seemed more silvery than Babs remembered 
it, around the face, but her cheeks were still 
the soft baby pink that Babs loved to kiss. 

“ Well, youVe the darlingest of them all,*' 
she cried, and threw her arms around her 
mother for a last hug. “ Mm 1 *' She squeezed 
her. You're so cozy to feel. Aunt Madge 
is too little, and Aunt Jule is a wee bit too 
neat, but you — you're just right." 

And with a song in her heart, and a little 
hum in her voice, she sped down the stairs 
with Marjory and out toward the path they 
had worn to the Writer Man's cottage. 


CHAPTER X 


THE HOLIDAYS 

The second day that Mrs. Benson was in 
Birchwood, there came a beautiful snowfall 
that gave them all an opportunity for an 
old-fashioned sleigh-ride. This Babs insisted 
upon. 

** Not make the most of this snow ? Why, 
Aunt Madge I I never heard of such a thing. 
You just send that car right back to the 
stables — I mean garage — and telephone for a 
sleigh and horses. Mother and 141 show you 
what a sleigh-ride is.^^ 

Her aunt laughingly obeyed and while she 
was at the telephone, Babs leaned over the 
bannisters and called down : 

With sleigh-bells, Auntie, be sure. And 
I’m getting out all your warm clothes, because 
it’s quite different from riding inside a closed 
limousine. We’ll pretend we’re driving across 
Moose Lake.” 

And cold they found it. Babs and her 
152 


153 


The Holidays 

mother lifted rosy faces to the tingling air, 
but Aunt Madge and Marjory snuggled down 
into their furs and robes and fell quite silent 
before the ride was over. 

And, of course, another day, Mrs. Benson 
had to go in to New York to see Molly's new 
home. This time Marjory and Aunt Madge 
stayed at Birch wood and Babs and Molly 
had a beautiful day together. They took their 
skates and spent a glowing hour in the park 
on the smooth ice, much to Mrs. Benson's 
worry. 

“ But why should you mind my going, you 
silly old dear?" Babs asked as she stood in 
hat and coat, ready to go. She pinched her 
mother's cheek, and smiled down at her as she 
sat in Aunt Jule's tiny cozy living-room with 
her fancy work. 

‘‘ Because, sweetheart," her mother an- 
swered gravely, New York is so different 
from Moose Lake, and I don't think you half 
appreciate that. It isn't safe to make friends 
with every one, and exchange greetings, as 
your friendly little soul will want to. Molly, 
will you keep an eye on her ? You're older, 
and you understand the city better now. 


154 


Babs at Birchwood 


And, Barbara, you must promise me not to 
speak to people, even if they do speak to you.'' 

“ But that’s so rude,” she protested, with 
wide eyes. 

It's safe, too, dear,” her mother rejoined. 

Please, sweetheart, give me your word, or I 
shall not enjoy my afternoon with Aunt Jule 
a bit.” 

It was so unusual for her mother to worry 
over her, that Babs felt there must be some- 
thing in her words, so she finally consented. 

** All right, — only — not even kiddies ? I've 
got to speak to kiddies. Mother darlin'. 
They're so adorable in their fat little blue and 
pink and brown woolly coats.” 

Her mother laughed, then turned to the 
older girl who stood by. 

“ Molly, I leave Babs in your hands,” she 
said. 

All right, Mrs. Benson,” Molly reassured 
her quietly. We'll be back by five, both of 
us.” 

Out in the snapping air, gliding over the 
smooth ice, hand in hand, Babs and Me’ ^ 
kept their tongues going as fast as their feet. 

“ And Mr. Woods, he's the principal, Babs 



TWO WHITE-CLAD GIRl^^ 





155 


The Holidays 

— he thinks I can be ready to go to college in 
two years, after this one. That's when Mar- 
jory 'll be rea 
know ? " 

I 

I'm not sure. Vassar or Wellesley, but I 
don't think she's decided. Oh, hum I This 
is the only time in my life I've ever wished I 
was rich, but I certainly should like to have 
enough to go to college with you." 

Molly glanced at her. 

"Would you really like to?" she asked. 
" I never heard you say that before." 

" Well," Babs returned, " I never thought I 
could, so I never wasted time talking about it, 
but now that the time's getting nearer, and 

you and Marje are going " she paused a 

bit wistfully. 

" Cheer up, Barbara, you never can tell 
what'll happen," Molly comforted her. " I 
believe that now, after the lightning that 
struck my life. I feel sometimes as though I 
were still living in a dream and I'm afraid to 
wake up." 

Babs squeezed her arm. 

" You old peach. You're awake, all right, 
and no one deserved the good luck more than 


^y. Where's she going, do you 


156 Babs at Birchwood 

you. I s’pose you’ve got it all fixed in your 
head what you’ll do after college, haven’t 
you ? ” 

Molly smiled. 

Well,” she admitted, there are several 
possibilities, but I’m not sure yet.” 

“ There,” said Babs, suddenly, there is a 
kiddy I must speak to. Did you ever see 
such an adorable bundle of pinkness ? ” 

And speak she did. Right on her knees on 
the ice she dropped before the sturdy young- 
ster, and smiling into his face, she asked if he 
wanted a pull. He hesitated never a second, 
but thrust out both wee mittened hands into 
hers, and with a gleeful chortle hung on, while 
she skated backward across the ice. It was 
hardly more than five minutes before she was 
breathlessly taking turns, first with a red 
baby, then a blue one, then an all white one ; 
and finally, her face alight with pleasure, she 
lined them all up, — red, blue, pink and white, 
and brown, little woolly figures, clasped their 
hands together and dragged them, shrieking 
and tumbling, across the ice. 

We’ll play I’m a pussy-cat, and you’re the 
tail,” she cried to the little string behind her. 


The Holidays \ 57 

Did you ever see a pussy chase his tail ? 
Now watch I ” 

And with a swoop she circled around and 
caught the last youngster in her arms. 

“ Caught ! she cried. “ Now let pinky be 
the tippy-tail, and I’ll catch her — or him — 
whichever you are.” 

'' Where’d you get your kindergarten ? ” 
asked a voice, and Babs looked up to see 
Allen’s laughing face at her shoulder. 

For pity’s sake,” she cried. Where did 
you come from ? Oh, bully ! And Donald, 
too.” Then she clapped her hands over her 
mouth and looked very grave. My stars I ” 
she said demurely. ” I’ve done it. I prom- 
ised Mother not to speak to a soul, — especially 
boys, — except kiddies.” She turned plead- 
ingly to the older girl, who stood by smiling. 

Molly, please ma’am. I’d like to speak to 
these boys. Are they in the kid class, do you 
think, and will it be all right?” 

“ I think so,” Molly answered soberly. 

But I must stay by to hear all you say.” 

“ Stay by — nothing,” Allen retorted. Not 

that we don’t want you, Molly-0, but 

Hey I Mac I ” He hailed a man who was 


158 Babs at Birchwood 

skimming by, bent forward from his waist, 
his hands clasped behind his back. 

The man straightened, wheeled and glided 
easily up to the little group. Allen intro- 
duced him and after he had skated off with 
Molly, the two boys, one on either side of 
Babs, struck out for the less crowded centre, 
leaving a disconsolate bunch of babies behind 
them. 

Awfully nice chap,^^ Allen said. “ He's our 
scout-master — Malcolm McIntyre. Scotch, all 
right, isn’t it? He’s studying to be a doctor. 
Well, how’s yourself? ” 

“ Fine,” Babs smiled up at him. Her red- 
gold hair was escaping in a curl or two from 
under her green tarn, and her cheeks were 
glowing, while her tawny eyes were as bri^hc 
as stars. 

“ You look it. Say, this is luck — finding 
you to-day. Why didn’t you telephone us ? ” 

Well, we didn’t have time to see you ” 

“ No excuse at all, is it, Don ? Aren’t you 
seeing us now? Hark and heed, young lady. 
You are never to come to New York again 
without telephoning us that you are here. 
As for to-day, we’ll have a party.” 


*59 


"The Holidays 

But I’ve got to go back to Aunt Jule's in 
about two and a half minutes, and then we^ve 
got to start for Birch wood/’ 

“ But why ? What’s the hurry ? Now, I’ll 
just tell you what the programme is. You 
didn’t get it right at all. We’ll go back to 
Aunt Jule’s, then we’ll all, plus Aunt Jule 
and Aunt Madge, come back to my house for 
dinner, and then to-night we’ll go to the 
theatre. Have you been to the theatre at 
all ? ” 

Babs shook her head. 

“ My treat, then. How does it sound, 
Don ? ” 

All right to me,” he answered briefly. 

And so it was done. Allen, in his gay and 
hearty manner, would brook no protest from 
the ladies, whom he in a delightfully impu- 
dent manner bossed about as though they 
were children. 

** Now, Aunt Jule, get on your bonnet and 
shawl — no time for words I Scoot, Aunt 
Madge ; you look sweet ; don’t waste minutes 
in the looking-glass. Let my eyes be your 
mirror in the limousine.” 

After telephoning to Birchwood their de- 


i6o Babs at Birchwood 

lay, they were soon, all of them, with Mr. 
McIntyre still in their midst, packed into the 
Pages* big car and sailing up Riverside Drive. 

“ We*re not dressed for dinner,’* Babs said 
doubtfully. 

“ That, from you, Babs, is funny,” Allen 
replied. “ Getting to be quite a fusser, aren’t 
you ? ” he teased. 

Is that so ? ” she retorted, briskly, and the 
hot color flared into her cheeks. She was 
thinking more of her appearance, but she 
didn’t want it to be discovered. Allen was 
too much of a tease, so she turned to Don and 
sternly ignored the apologetic Allen. 

The evening was perfect, in Babs’ estima- 
tion. The Pages’ winter home, though very 
unlike their summer one, and still totally 
different from Marjory’s, was nevertheless fas- 
cinating, with its Oriental hangings, and queer 
Chinese stands and pottery. 

“ But there’ll never be any place as beauti- 
ful as the one on Little Spoon Lake,” she said 
loyally. “ That’s the first lovely one I ever 
saw, and you see it naturally seems the nicest 
to me,” she explained to Mr. McIntyre. 

Mr. McIntyre was proving to be a pleasant 


The Holidays i6i 

young man with a serious air and an old-fash- 
ioned courtesy that quite won Mrs. Benson^s 
and Miss Snow^s approval. Molly liked him, 
and found his earnestness provoking her to 
unexpected spurts of mischief. 

The theatre that evening was Barbara’s first 
experience, and the little Irish girl of the play, 
with her winsome drollery and her pathetic 
misfit, had Barbara alternately in tears and 
laughter. Allen and Donald teased her un- 
mercifully, as she frankly wiped her eyes. 

Well, who wouldn’t cry ? ” she demanded 
hotly, pushing Donald’s handkerchief away. 

I’d much rather cry than sit like an old 
dump. You boys have seen it, anyway, and 
you know it’s bound to turn out all right, but 

the first time ” She leaned toward Allen 

and whispered, suddenly ; 

** It reminds me of myself in Marjory’s 
home, you see. Me not knowing a thing at 
all, at all, as Peg would say. Why, I felt just 
the same way she does, about the butler. It’s 
a shame for a big healthy man like that to 
do nothing but pass a card and open a 
door.” 

It was on their way home that evening, on 


i 62 


Babs at Birchwood 


the train, that Mrs. Benson had a good chance 
to talk with Barbara. 

“ Yes,^^ she answered, smiling down into 
Barbara’s happy face. It was a glorious day 
and evening. You have lovely friends, dear, 
and you must always keep in touch with 
them, even though Moose Lake is far away.” 

I mean to,” Babs answered, leaning her 
head back. Mother,” she said suddenly, is 
there any chance of my going to college? ” 
Her mother looked at her quickly. 

Would you like to? ” she asked. 

Oh,” Babs breathed, so much, — more 
than anything, I think.” 

'‘Why?” her mother asked. "What 
would you do with a college education, after- 
ward, if we spent all that money on you ? ” 

"Oh ”Babs hesitated, then sighed, and 

finally laughed. " Well, to be honest, Mumsey, 
I never want to teach. I don’t know what 
I’d like to do with it. I want to go for the 
fun, and the friends, and that’s just what. 
Moose Lake seems to be a bit lonely when I 
think of it now. I love it still,” she hastened 
to say, " but with Marjory and Molly gone — 
anyway, maybe I’d find out at college, or 


The Holidays 163 

afterward, what I went for,” she ended as an 
inspiration. 

Mrs. Benson smiled. 

** Well, dearie,” she said, taking Barbara’s 
hand in hers, we’ll see. I’d love to have 
you go, but it will be quite expensive, you 
know.” 

Babs’ nose wrinkled thoughtfully. 

'' I know,” she answered. But p’rhaps 
there’d be ways for me to earn my way 
through. I can work, you know. I can do 
most anything — ’cept sew.” 

** Would you like to room with Marjory or 
Molly?” 

“ Oh, Molly,” Babs’ answer came swiftly, 
then she snuggled closer to her mother. 

Marjory’s so fiercely neat. Mother I ” 

“ Barbara, my dear, Marjory’s neatness may 
be a painful thing for you to be close to, 
but it is the best thing in the world for you. 
I see a marked improvement in you already.” 

Oh, I suppose so, but why fuss so over 
clothes ? They’re only a cover-up. When I 
get worn to a frazzle thinking about little 
picayune things like clothes and hair, I just 
run down to the Writer Man’s. To-morrow,” 


164 Babs at Birchwood 

she went on, jumping at the chance of chang- 
ing the subject, “ you must go see him with 
me. You’ve only three days left.” 

And to-morrow they went. And Mrs. 
Benson was delighted with the rare old-time 
politeness the tall Writer Man gave her. She 
found the quaint little three-roomed cottage, 
its informal welcome, and warm cozy hours 
before the fireside all that Barbara had de- 
scribed them. The afternoon v/as like a page 
out of a book to her, for the Writer Man was 
at his best. His stories, his mementoes of 
various trips he had been on, and adventures 
he had had, his whimsical drollery as he told 
the story of finding Sub, — his big dog, — and 
his unusual grace over the teacups, charmed 
Mrs. Benson as they had Babs. 

'' Too bad,” she said half to herself and 
half to her daughter as they climbed the hill 
to the Kennedy place again, too bad he 
should be all alone in life.” 

“ Yes, isn’t it?” Babs agreed. Wouldn’t 
it be great if we could hitch up Aunt Jule 
and the Writer Man ? ” she said suddenly. 

Her mother laughed. 

“ You are the greatest little planner,” 


’The Holidays i6^ 

she said. “ You insisted on ‘ hitching up ’ 
George’s money to Molly, I remember.” 

“ Well, it worked,” Babs replied tri- 
umphantly. “ Maybe I can make this work, 
too.” 

I shouldn’t try,” her mother observed. 
'' Mating money and mating men are two dif- 
ferent propositions.” 

Before the vacation reached an end, Mrs. 
Benson had an opportunity to see a cere- 
monial meeting of the Camp Fire. Seated in 
the window seat with Mrs. Kennedy, they 
watched with intense and quiet interest the 
serious faces of the Indian-clad girls who en- 
tered with their silent step and gave the silent 
greeting to the Guardian before the fire. 

After the Wohelo cheer, sung in two parts 
by the sweet girlish voices, Phyllis gave the 
signal to be seated. Quite unconscious of her 
audience, she began to speak to the girls in 
the informal comradely way she had that so 
endeared her to them. 

Girls,” she began, before we hear what 
honor beads you have won to-night, I want 
to say a few things that have been on my 
mind lately.” She smiled around at them. 


i66 


Babs at Birchwood 


“ This isn’t meant to be a lecture. Don’t 
look so serious. I just want your opinions on 
a question that has been evaded too long. 
Our Camp Fire has made such a name for 
fun and friendliness that other girls are 
simply clamoring to join us. I have had 
half a dozen girls this vacation begging and 
coaxing me to let them come in. I have told 
them all that it was not up to me. It’s up to 
you. If you vote them in, they’ll be warmly 

welcomed. If not ” she shrugged her 

shoulders. ‘‘ I should hate to tell them we 
do not want them,” she concluded. “ It 
sounds — snobby. Just what we aim not to 
be. How do you feel about it ? ” 

Oh, Phil,” Marjory cried, '‘six is just 
enough ! We’re so cozy. Don’t let’s take any 
more in ! ” 

“ I think so too,” Clara agreed quickly. 
“ This isn’t a Y. W. C. A.” 

“ Who wants to join ? ” Babs asked. 

“ Why, you girls surely know. Margaret 
Willis and Nancy Huyler are wild to. And 
Jean and Kay and Ruth ” 

“ But they’re so young,” Gladys protested. 

Phyllis turned to Rosalie. 


The Holidays 167 

Your turn to speak, Owaissa. What do 
you think ? ” 

They’re a little younger,” Rosalie ven- 
tured timidly, but they’re all mighty nice.” 

Babs nodded. 

“ And there’s something in what you say — 
about our not being snobs,” she said thought- 
fully. ” I hate that.” 

” I’ll tell you now how I feel.” Phyllis 
took the lead again. “ You six form a 
nucleus. You are all of you Wood Gatherers 
now. You all have a splendid Camp Fire 
spirit. But don’t you see ? Camp Fire is a 
thing for growth. You have so much to give 
the other girls who want to join, — of the ideas 
and ideals Camp Fire has already helped you 
form. And giving that way is growth. And 
then too,” she added, with a demure smile, 
” you’re not perfect in yourselves, you know.” 

Why, of course,” Babs cried. They can 
give us something, you mean. New enthu- 
siasm and fresh inspiration for one thing. 
Oh, I’d like to have some others share this 
with us. I see what you mean. It’s too good 
for us to pig ourselves.” 

Good, Wicaka,” Phyllis nodded. Wicaka ” 


i68 


Babs at Birchwood 


meant faithful one/' and Babs had chosen it 
for her name. 

And Otakuye means friendship/' Marjory 
murmured. And there’s no limit to friend- 
ship.” 

“ Good for you, girls ; I thought you’d see 
it that way. Are you ready to vote on it ? ” 

Unanimously they decided to enlarge their 
club to a membership of twelve. 

Then came the bestowing of the honor 
beads. Gladys had learned First Aid and re- 
frained from sodas and candy, — a piece of 
heroism for her ; Rosalie had developed her 
cooking talents which, given the opportunity 
to air, she had discovered were smouldering 
within her ; Clara had followed the line of 
least resistance and won most of hers with her 
needle. Babs recounted the hours she had 
spent winning health craft beads, skating and 
coasting. She imitated the calls and cries 
of ten birds and described twenty wild 
flowers. 

” she added proudly, I get two home 

craft beads to-day. I’ve kept my bureau 
drawers in order and saved nine stitches a 
week 1 ” 


T’he Holidays 169 

Her sigh of accomplishment was tremen- 
dous and the mothers smiled involuntarily. 

Marjory shyly produced a roll of paper. 

I wrote an Indian legend/’ she said. It’s 
to appear in the school paper next month.” 

” Good for you, girls, said Phyllis heartily. 
“ One more thing while we’re on the subject. 
Don’t choose the easiest thing always. You’ll 
have all the hard ones left for later if you do.” 

Clara glanced up quickly, and Phyllis 
nodded to her. 

” Yes,” she said. ” That’s for you. Use the 
frying pan instead of the needle next month.” 

Then, standing, she repeated these lines as 
she gave out the bright colored beads to the 
girls, who quickly added them to the chains 
about their necks. 

“ With deepest pride to day I give 
These honor beads to you who^re here. 

Some were by hardest effort won 
And some perchance more easily ; 

Yet right worth winning since our aim 
Is to make work and duties all 
So full of health’s attendant glow. 

So joyous and so rich in love, 

So fired and colored by fancy’s play 
That drudgery is drowned in song. 

And work and play go hand in hand.’^ 


ijo Babs at Birchwood 

‘‘ When are you going to make us Fire 
Makers? Babs asked, poking the flame with 
a stick. 

I wanted to speak to you about that too.'’ 
Phyllis clasped her knees with her hands. 
“ I'm glad you asked. You may remember 
the manual tells you what required honors 
there are for that rank. It also tells you that 
you must earn the approval of the Guardian. 
I've been thinking of the standard I would 
set for this rank, and this is what I've finally 
decided." 

She paused and looked down at her folded 
hands. She had given the matter considerable 
thought and had finally set a standard that 
she felt would stir each girl to individual and 
earnest effort to attain the rank. 

The girl whom I make Fire Maker," 
Phyllis began in a low, slow tone, her eyes on 
the fire, ‘‘ has proved herself to me as trying 
to be — sincere in all things, faithful in ail 
things, happy-heartedly helpful in all things ; 
she plays fair and makes the best of things 
when everything goes dead wrong ; she lives 
up to Otakuye, our Camp Fire name, by being 
slow to hurtful speech, and quick to generous 


The Holidays 1 7 1 

forgiveness ; she makes the most of the talents 
she possesses, she keeps her heart and thoughts 
as neat and clean and sweet as she does her 
person. She tries day by day to live up to 
each point of the law ; she holds true day by 
day to the Wood Gatherer’s Desire, and day 
by day she keeps the Fire Maker’s Resolve 
before her.” 

There was a silence. 

“ Phew ! ” Babs whistled at last. Oh, ex- 
cuse me, Unktahee, I certainly didn’t go for 
to say that. The heart of me wanted to say 
Amen, but my tongue got going first. Hon- 
estly,” she tipped her head on one side. 
“ That was pretty cute I You’ve got us all 
humping — * as neat and sweet as she keeps 
her person,’ ” she quoted. “ Babs, my dear,” 
she turned toward herself comically, *^your 
Guardian’s piercing eyes saw through the 
court plaster on your stocking to the hole un- 
derneath.” 

They all laughed, — seriousness dispelled. 
But each girl had taken to heart tl^e phrase 
her Guardian had meant for her. And the 
mothers departed, their souls applauding the 
Wellesley graduate who, through the medium 


172 Babs at Birchwood 

of the Camp Fire, was helping form such 
splendid habits and worth-while ideals in the 
girls. 

The next day Barbara, with a sob half 
swallowed in her throat and a brave smile on 
her face, bade her mother farewell at the trim 
little stone station of Birchwood. 

Give my best to Dad and Tim and George 

— and everybody. And ” She rushed 

up to her mother and whispered so that Mar- 
jory might not hear. “ Mother, don’t you 
suppose you could send my little old gun to 
me? It would be such company.” 

Her mother laughed and patted her cheek. 

Why, if you want it, daughter, you may 
have it. Do you really ? ” 

Barbara nodded fiercely. Homesickness 
had surged up in her at this farewell, so her 
mother smilingly promised to send the good 
little old gun ” as soon as she reached home 
again. 


CHAPTER XI 


MIDYEARS 

“ Oh,” groaned Rosalie, only two weeks 
till midyears. How I dread it.” 

The girls were all gathered in the study 
around the big table at recess a few days after 
the Christmas holidays. Clara was daintily 
nibbling chocolates ; Gladys was banging on 
the piano ; Rosalie was retying Barbara's hair 
ribbon while she stood impatiently waiting 
for Rosalie to quit fussing ” ; and Marjory 
was making up a new dance to the tune 
Gladys was playing. All of them were irri- 
table from anxiety over the coming ordeal. 

At Barbara's sprightly answer to Rosalie's 
lament, Gladys fixed her with a frowning eye. 

Dread them ? '' said Barbara gaily. “ Why ? 
They're just simply questions on what you’ve 
been studying, that's all.” 

What yovive been studying, you mean,” 
returned Gladys. “ I'm not such a greasy 
grind.” 


173 


174 


Babs at Birchwood 


“ Greasy grind I What under the sun is 
that?'' Barbara's ignorance of modern slang 
was appalling. 

“ It's you, that's what it is," answered 
Gladys. Midyears always made Gladys 
snippy. Naturally quick to speak, she was 
irritated by work and weariness to speaking 
more thoughtlessly than usual. ‘‘ Knowing 
every lesson every day, so as to be teachers' 
pet and know they won’t flunk you. You 
look the part, too." 

Barbara jerked her hair from Rosalie's An- 
gers, and faced Gladys. 

Now, what do you mean by that?” she 
demanded, and a spark of anger w^as seen in 
her eye. Gladys’ rudeness was uncalled 
for, and Babs resented it — to the surprise of 
all. 

Gladys hesitated. She had never seen Bar- 
bara aroused, but the look in her face warned 
her. However, the strain of midyears had 
swept aside her good resolution temporarily, 
and she answered, but she rose as she did so, 
and beat a casual retreat to the door. 

'‘Greasy grinds," she explained, “don't 
wear corsets. They go 'round, dumpy and 


Midyears 175 

fat, in low-heeled shoes, and without gloves, 
and — to put it mildly — untidy.” 

As she disappeared through the door Mar- 
jory stopped dancing long enough to say 
thoughtlessly over her shoulder : 

** True enough. You deserve it, Babs, my 
dear. Take a look.” 

Barbara, though hurt at Marjory^s words, 
threw a hasty glance at herself in the long 
mirror. It was true. She was fat, compared 
to Gladys and Marjory, and her heels were 
low, and also run down. Her shoes were 
broad, her hands, — well, she could never find 
her gloves, and so naturally her hands were 
red and chapped a good deal of the time. 
The novelty of wearing new clothes had worn 
o&j and Babs was as careless and indifferent 
of her appearance as she had been when she 
wore bloomers and a middy blouse. To be 
sure, Marie stood ready to sew on buttons, and 
mend clothes, but somehow Babs never laid 
out her clothes, as Marjory did, when they 
needed attention. She stuffed them in her 
closet, and was remorseful when she had to 
wear them again, and then promptly forgot 
the whole business. 


176 Babs at Birchwood 

“ Well/^ she said aloud, in her honest way, 
“ she hit the nail on the head. I am untidy. 
But what^s that got to do with lessons?*^ 

But no one volunteered an answer, so she 
turned back to Rosalie, who was nervously 
thumbing her algebra. 

Put it up, silly,” she said. IPs recess.” 

** But midyears is only a little way off,” 
Rosalie murmured, obeying, nevertheless. 

Midyears I Midyears 1 WhaPs the mat- 
ter with all of you? Scared to death over 
exams I You make me tired. You've all 
studied just exactly as much as I have and 
you know just as much, too. WhaPs the sense 
of grinding so now ? ” 

And Babs flew from the room to get a 
breath of fresh air before the bell rang calling 
them to classes again. 

As the days went by and the period for the 
midyear examinations drew closer, Babs was 
surprised and disgusted to see that the attitude 
of the girls became even more intensified. 
Even Marjory, whose lessons never troubled 
her, caught the fever of unrest, and it grew 
hard for Babs to understand her impatience. 

“ Don't speak to me,” Clara snapped the 


Midyears 177 

day before the algebra examination. ** Can’t 
you see I’m cramming ? I’m petrified, I tell 
you, simply petrified.” And she raised blue 
circled eyes to Babs pathetically. 

Rosalie was caught weeping in the cloak 
room and wringing her hands in desperation. 

Oh, it’s all right for you, Barbara. You’re 
smart,” she wailed. And you’ve studied 

faithfully, but poor little me ” she waved 

her hands tragically. 

My dear,” Babs replied with the patience of 
desperation, ” you’ve been studying with in- 
finitely more faithfulness all the year than I 
have. You come on then, Marje. Go skating 
with me this afternoon. Nobody else will.” 

But Marjory was no better. 

Maybe,” she predicted, darkly, maybe, 
after this next week, you’ll learn we were 
wise to forego pleasures ” 

Marjory’s pious air was the last straw. 

“Wise? You’re chumps!” Babs had lost 
patience, and with the word she turned and 
marched out to look for her friend the Writer 
Man, who, she was sure, would skate with her 
on this snappy February day. 

The algebra examination was hard, but 


178 Babs at Birchwood 

Barbara scratched busily away, during the 
two hours they were allowed. Once, when 
her pencil rolled off the desk, and she stooped 
to pick it up, she glanced over and caught 
the wry face and despairing gesture Marjory 
was making ; and again she was disturbed by 
Clara's rustling next to her. She took time 
to send a friendly smile and interrogative 
glance at her neighbor, and another to fright- 
ened little Rosalie behind her, but Clara was 
absorbedly gazing into space, and refused to 
answer, and Rosalie hastily dropped her eyes 
and began chewing her eraser. 

The other examinations followed in swift 
succession, and the following week, the girls 
waited anxiously for their Marks." They 
were to be given out in each class, with the 
returned papers. There was great rejoicing 
when the girls found they had done fairly 
well. All but algebra had been heard from. 
Gladys had flunked histor3^ And Barbara 
had just passed English, in which Marjory 
had 95%. 

** Oh, well," Gladys' elfish face squinted 
into a disdainful grimace. “ Who cares 
whether or not I did mix up all the old 


Midyears 179 

fogies? History’s dumb-stupid, anyway.” 
And she tossed her head high. 

” Well, I’m ashamed of my English exam,” 
said Babs frankly. I just am. I was care- 
less, because that whole fourth question I 
didn’t even read right. I’m wondering how 
we all got along in algebra. That third 
problem stumped me.” 

The next day in algebra class, as Miss 
Stites went down the aisle giving back the 
papers, she stopped at Barbara’s desk and said 
softly : 

“ Barbara, I will speak to you about your 
paper after class.” 

Babs’ eyes widened in question as she 
looked at Miss Stites, who returned her look 
very gravely. The other girls stared in 
amazement, and then began pokings and 
nudgings and whispers which Miss Stites 
instantly stopped by a rap of her ruler on the 
desk. 

After class was over, Barbara hurried to the 
teacher’s desk and stood waiting eagerly. 
Finally, the last curious girl had reluctantly 
left, and closed the door after her, and then 
Babs suddenly discovered Rosalie was stand- 


i8o Babs at Birchwood 

ing by her side, her color high, her hands 
twisting and untwisting before her. 

Barbara and Rosalie,'’ Miss Stites’ gray 
eyes looked first at one then at the other, and 
her mouth set in a straight line. In look- 
ing over your papers,” she proceeded with a 
quiet sternness, “ I discovered one peculiar 
thing about them. The third problem, about 
the men and the books, was answered identi- 
cally word for word.” 

She paused and Barbara’s voice immediately 
broke out. 

Why, how queer I ’’she cried in genuine 
amazement. Isn’t that the funniest thing? ” 
Then she turned to Rosalie. Great minds 
run in the same channel, don’t they ? Was it 
right?” She turned back quickly to Miss 
Stites. 

^‘The answer was worked out correctly,” 
Miss Stites answered, and her eyes studied the 
little girl who had entirely missed the import 
of her words. Rosalie said nothing, merely 
stood there, swallowing quickly, and flushing 
and paling alternately. 

” Well ” Babs drew a long breath, then 

waited, but no one said anything. ‘‘Can’t 


Midyears i8i 

you tell me my mark, then ? ” she asked at 
last. 

Not until I find out which of you copied 
the answer from the other.” 

Miss Stites' words crackled and Barbara 
jumped. For a dazed minute she stared un- 
comprehending, then in a storm of hurt pro- 
test and amazement her words tumbled forth. 

‘‘ Why, Miss Stites I Copied ! You mean 
I copied ? Why, I never did such a thing in 
my life I I wouldn't. I despise it. Oh, 
you've hurt me, really you have. No one ever 

said such a thing to me before. I — I '' 

The tears choked her, and before Miss Stites 
could stop her, she had rushed from the room, 
fiung on her hat and coat before the curious 
eyes of the waiting girls, and in mad haste 
tore from their sight toward the privacy of her 
room. 

Had she waited, she would have seen Miss 
Stites turn to Rosalie swiftly. 

“ Rosalie,'' her voice was gentle, for this was 
Rosalie's first offense and Miss Stites could 
not understand it, “ after that, I can't be- 
lieve Barbara was the guilty one. What am 
I to believe ? ” 


i 82 


Babs at Birchwood 


Rosalie burst into tears and sobbed out the 
whole sad story. 

“ Oh, Miss Stites I It was so hard, and I 
was so scared — and I had such an awful head- 
ache. I had studied till after midnight, and 
somehow my brain wouldn’t work. That 
problem was — was-— ^erce, and when Babs 
leaned over to pick up her pencil, I just — saw. 
I didn’t mean to — really, Miss Stites — but 
after I’d seen that little bit, of course I knew 
how to go ahead, and I just did. Somehow it 
didn’t seem like copying till I got through 
and handed in my p-paper, and then I was 
s-so scared — and ashamed, — and I love Babs 
so, — I wouldn’t get her into trouble for any- 
thing, — and ” 

“ There, dear,” Miss Stites interrupted the 
hysterical little girl and took her hand. I 
understand, I think. And I’m sorry it hap- 
pened. I hope you won’t be so foolish again 
as to study until midnight before an examina- 
tion. I know you’re ashamed, dear, but even 
so, I feel there must be a punishment. Your 
paper must be marked zero. Barbara’s is 
one hundred. You have failed in the ex- 
amination. Perhaps you will be allowed 


Midyears 183 

to take another. I will talk with the prin- 
cipal.'' 

“ Oh, thank you," Rosalie gasped, and Miss 
Stites patted her shoulder. 

“You may go now. Oh, just a minute. 
Please send Barbara back to me." 

But Rosalie was too ashamed to hunt out 
Babs just then, and she ran sobbing to her 
own room, to avoid the eager buzz of ques- 
tions that she knew awaited her. 

Barbara, in the meantime, was racing along 
the frozen road toward home. Half blinded 
by tears, she stumbled on her way, sobbing 
aloud to herself. 

“ Oh, dear, this is the end. They think I'm 
a cheat. They think I'm a cheat." 

At last, after what seemed miles and miles 
of hard rough walking, she reached the Ken- 
nedy home. Dabbing her face, she slipped in 
as quietly as possible and hurried up to her 
room. She carefully locked both doors and 
then flung herself face down on her bed and 
cried her heart out. 

What could she do ? If Miss Stites thought 
she was a cheat, everybody would. Marjory 
and Aunt Madge wouldn't want to own her 


184 Babs at Birchwood 

for a relative. They^d be ashamed to death. 
She felt burned and branded, and her heart 
was lead. She couldn't face the girls, she 
simply couldn't. They probably wouldn't 
speak to her, and she couldn't stand not be- 
ing spoken to. Oh, everything was awful. 
Could anything worse happen to a girl ? 

“ Nobody, positively nobody at this end of 
the world cares whether I live or die, if I'm a 

cheat," she sobbed, ** except " she caught 

her breath. P'rhaps the Writer Man." 

The thought of him comforted her. She 
decided to go ask him if he believed she was 
a cheat, and immediately she was on her feet 
washing her face, to drive away all signs of 
tears, and brushing her hair. 

She stole softly down the stairs. Marjory 
had not yet come from school, and Auntie was 
out, so she was unobserved as she let herself 
out of the front door and ran around to the 
back of the house where she and Marjory had 
worn a narrow path in the snow that led to 
the Writer Man's cottage. 

At the window she paused long enough to 
peer in. If he were writing, she did not 
dare disturb him. That was their compact. 


Midyears 185 

But no click of the typewriter greeted her 
ears, so she lifted the latch and stepped quietly 
in. The Writer Man was by the fire in his 
favorite hunched-up position on the ingle 
nook seat. 

'' Well, Merry Sunshine ! '' he cried, putting 
down his book, unfolding his long length, and 
going to meet her. What means this tragic 
face ? 

Barbara drew a quivering breath, and then, 
before she could help herself, the tears started 
afresh. The Writer Man laid his arm about 
her shoulders and led her to the fire. Quietly 
he slipped off her coat and cap, stuffed a big 
handkerchief into her hands and as she sank 
sobbing at the big dog^s side and buried her 
face in his thick hair, he knelt beside her, 
patting her head until the first storm was 
over. 

In a few minutes the tears stopped and 
Babs' head bounced up with her old time 
spunk. 

There I ** she exclaimed. ** I went and 
babied all over poor old Sub. I thought I^d 

finished before I came down, but you see 

Now donT look at me, Mr. Writer Man. 


i86 


Babs at Birchwood 


Don’t you dare. I’m a sight. I can tell by 
the feel. My snub nose is puffy and my eyes 
are red, and my raving locks are all higgledy 
again. But truly you wouldn’t blame me.” 

“ Gracious ! ” The Writer Man sat on the 
seat again and crossed one knee over the 
other. Such a downpour in February. 
What can the matter be? ” 

Mr. Writer Man,” Babs forgot her appear- 
ance and turned to face him squarely. Her 
earnest face was tragic in its intensity. I 
want you to tell me the solemn truth. Do 
you think I’m a cheat ? ” 

“ You — a cheat, my dear ? ” he asked 
gravely. That’s the last thing in the world 
I’d believe of you.” 

Well, God bless you for that,” she replied 
fervently, and the Writer Man bit back his 
sudden smile. I am, though,” she added. 

Is that so? ” he asked interestedly. '‘Tell 
me about it.” 

“ Well, we just finished midyears, you know, 
and I passed everything. At least I’d heard 
from everything except algebra, and in class 
this morning Miss Stites gave back every- 
body’s papers except Rosalie’s and mine. Us 


Midyears 187 

she called up after school — Babs^ man- 
ner of speaking was excusable because of her 
excitement — and she told us we had an- 
swered the third question exactly alike, and 
she wanted to know who copied, and she 
looked straight at me, and her eyes were stern 
as ice. Why, Mr. Writer Man, I was so sur- 
prised I Because I didn^t, you know. I 
don't think I was ever so surprised in all my 
life. And it hurt — like sixty, it did." He 
nodded understandingly. And before I 
knew it, I just said, — well, I don't know what 
I said. Not much, I guess, but I had to run 
away before I finished saying it, because I 
would have cried, and everybody knows now, 
and Marjory's ashamed of me, and I don't 
want to stay here another single minute." 

She paused, breathless, her eyes bright with 
unshed tears. 

** But, Barbara, did you copy ? " The 
man's tones were slow and gentle, but Bar- 
bara met his gaze with a reproachful face. 

** Why, Mr. Writer Man," she said sadly. 

He threw back his head and laughed. 
Laughed long and loud, hugging his knee, 
and not looking at Barbara at all, until she 


i88 Babs at Birchwood 

jumped to her feet, and shouted above his 
voice : 

Stop that I Stop that this minute I If 
you see anything funny in this business, 
you^d better tell me quick/^ 

Why, you little silly I Get your sunshine 
face out, immejut. You left before Miss Stites 
could tell you the rest. She knew you didn't 
copy. Rosalie did." 

Barbara stood silent. Then she shook her 
head. 

Oh, no. You're mistaken. Rosalie 
wouldn't copy. I'm sure she wouldn't, any 
more than I would. It must have been 
I," she concluded, positively. “ But I don't 
remember doing it at all." 

Again the Writer Man laughed, and when 
he had finished, he said briskly : 

“Now, tell me. Have you had lunch?" 
He fixed her with a stern glance. 

“ No, sir," she replied meekly, a twinkle in 
her eye. She felt better, just for the telling, 
and his unshakable faith in her and laughter 
over what had seemed to her a tragedy 
seemed to make it much less of an affair than 
she had thought. 


Midyears 189 

“ Well, then,” he said on his way to the 
kitchen, ‘‘we will have a light luncheon to- 
gether. Jam and biscuits, perchance, will 
tempt your jaded appetite, and a cup of 
cocoa? And some cold sliced ham, sliced so 
thin you can see through it? ” 

“ And,” Barbara was on her feet and whirl- 
ing about the room, “ Bll set the table, with 
those darling blue and white dishes, and I’ll 
start the fire up again ” 

“ And this afternoon,” the Writer Man 
called from the kitchen, “just as quick as we 
finish, we’ll go on a spree.” 

Barbara darted to the door. 

“ Where?” she demanded. 

“ New York,” he replied. 

The two of them hurried through a deli- 
cious little luncheon, and then stacked the 
dishes neatly in the tiny kitchen. 

“ No need to soil our lily white hands with 
the washing of them,” the Writer Man said 
airily. “ Whilst we are absent, my retinue of 
servants will attend to them. Avaunt, we 
must begone.” 

“ Well, avaunt, then,” said Babs. “ I’ll 
beat you avaunting to the station.” 


Babs at Birchwood 


190 

At the word the long-legged Writer Man 
shot past her out of the door and Babs, shrug- 
ging herself into her coat and tarn, pelted 
after him. Breathless and rosy, they arrived 
at the hedge-bordered stone station in time to 
swing on the last car of the train that was 
just slowly pulling out. 

As Barbara sank into the seat, she glanced 
down at her hands. Gloveless ! And it was 
February I And she was on her way to New 
York I 

Oh, it’s true, it’s true,” she moaned. I 
am.” 

'‘You am what? What’s true? More 
troubles? Just when I got the sun to shin- 
ing, too.” 

“ Well,” Babs laughed, “ this isn’t so serious, 
still it’s some serious. I’m a greasy grind.” 

“ You are ? ” The Writer Man smiled quiz- 
zically down at the flushed face next his 
shoulder. “ Since when ? And what makes 
you so ? ” 

“ Since Gladys told me so this morning — I 
mean the other day. Greasy grinds, you 
know,” she went on to explain, “ wear low- 
heeled shoes.” She stuck her foot out for in- 


Midyears 191 

spection. ** And they don^t wear any gloves/' 
She spread her red square hands before him. 

I am. And I can't remember to be anything 
else. Clothes are -the biggest nuisance," she 
confessed. If only they'd stay new and 
clean. They never bothered me at all till I 
came here. I just jumped into bloomers and 
a middy, and the bloomers had elastics in 
around the waist, and the middies went on 
over my head, and there were never any but- 
tons to come off. I can't spend all my spare 
time fussing about how I look." 

She lifted questioning eyes to him, and he 
hesitated before replying. 

You do look a little greasy-grindy, some- 
times," he admitted. “ Seems to me there 
oughtn’t to be spots on, and holes in, and but- 
tons off, — but maybe I don't know. Anyway, 
your hands will freeze without gloves. 
Where are your lovely fur ones ? " 

Left 'em, I guess," she answered. Then 
she thrust her hands into her big pockets. 
“ Oh, no, goody I Here they are. What are 
we going to do, anyway ? " 

** Well, for one thing, we're going to inspect 
the Lady of the Harbor." 


192 Babs at Birchwood 

Who^s she?^’ 

** Do you mean to say you aren^t acquainted 
with the Lady of the Harbor ? Why, Merry 
Sunshine, I am ashamed. It will be my 
privilege to acquaint you.^' 

Barbara dimpled. 

‘‘ What else? ” she demanded. 

You're insatiable," he reproved. ‘‘ How- 
ever, we are going to take a 'bus from 'way 
down-town in New York, by Washington 
Square, and ride and ride and ride 'way up- 
town, and you shall learn some of the his- 
tory of one of the most famous cities in the 
world." 

Fun ! " Barbara clapped her hands 
softly. Oh, my, you're good to me." 

And before the afternoon was over, Barbara 
said that again and again. The trip to the 
Statue of Liberty, and the climb to the top, 
fascinated her. So did the ride from lower 
New York up to Grant's Tomb and the Clare- 
mont. It was cold, up on top of the 'bus, and 
she thrust her fur-gloved hands deep in her 
pockets, buried her chin in the collar of her 
coat, and sat there eagerly drinking in all the 
information the Writer Man was giving her as 


Midyear's 193 

they passed old places and corners and houses 
where history had been made. 

“ You make New York really live/' said 
Babs suddenly. “ You make it seem like a 
person, somehow." 

He smiled. 

“ It seems like a person to me," he replied. 
“ A friendly person, with secrets and worries 
and good times and bad, like the rest of us. 
If you can reach its heart, it's as generous and 
warm and throbbing as anybody's you ever 
knew. And it’s a cheerful person," he added 
whimsically. It doesn't like to show its 
hurts, so it dresses up in gay flashing 
lights and elaborate buildings and it crowds 
too close together, so you must look and 
hunt if you would And its shames. Oh, 
I love New York," he broke off enthusiastic- 
ally. 

At the Claremont, on the shore of the 
Hudson, they found a corner table in the en- 
closed glass veranda, and here they ordered 
cocoa and sandwiches and fancy cakes and 
sat chummily eating and watching the glow- 
ing sunset over the river and the Palisades 
opposite. 


194 


Babs at Birchwood 


I feel most straightened out now, thank 
you,” said Babs suddenly. 

** That's good,” Mr. Lawrence returned cheer- 
fully. '‘And by the way, I've thought of 
something you've forgotten. How about that 
present your mother gave you when you left 
her last fall, that was marked — ‘ Not to be 
opened until positively necessary, or until the 
sun ceases to shine,' or something like that? ” 

“ Why, of course,” Babs sat up. “ This is 
the time, isn't it ? ” 

“ I guess it is,” he replied. “ You go 
straight home and find that envelope and 
open it.” 

“ I will,” she promised. 

When they stood in the snow outside the 
Kennedys’ home she turned to him. 

“ Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Writer Man. 
It's been a great day after all. I’ll come tell 
you to-morrow what the present is.” 

He strode off in the darkness, while Babs 
slipped into the house. In the hall she stood 
silent, for she heard Marjory's voice talking 
to her mother in the living-room. 

“ It was the most awful thing,” she heard 
Marjory say. “ Oh, I'm so disappointed. To 


Midyears 195 

think she cheated, Mother. And I've been 

such good friends with her " 

Now, my dear," Auntie's gentle voice said, 
"just remember she hasn't been brought up 
as you have, and this moment of weakness 
might have been too much for her. She's 
quite alone, you know. It was contempti- 
ble " 

Babs waited to hear no more. The tears 
stung her eyes again, as she stole past the 
heavy curtain and ran up to her room. Once 
there she locked herself in and then hurried 
to her desk where she had the white envelope 
tucked away. 

" I certainly do need you now. Mother," she 
whispered chokingly. " I can't bear to go 
down to dinner, and if you've got a message 
for me " 

With trembling fingers she tore open the 
fiap. Inside was a wee pin of gold, shaped 
like a heart. With a cry of delight she 
snatched it up and looked closer. On the 
back of the heart was written in fine letters 
— " For my Sunshiny Daughter." 

" How dear ! " Babs sighed. " How per- 
fectly dear. I shall always, always wear it, 


196 Babs at Birchwood 

and if I*m likely to forget to be sunshiny, I’ll 
remember when I feel it. Oh, here’s a note.” 

The pin had been folded in a piece of paper 
which she discovered was a short letter from 
her mother. It contained only a few words 
of love, expressing the belief she had in her 
daughter’s sunny heart that would bring cheer 
to all, but it made Babs’ sore little heart glow 
with tenderness. 

“ She knows I’m not a cheat, anyway.” 

As she sat there, thinking, and with a smile 
wavering on her lips, she heard Marjory run 
up the stairs, and knock at her door. 

Just a minute,” she called bravely. Then 
she tumbled the pin, letter and all back in 
her desk and ran to let her cousin in. 

“ Where have you been all day ? ” Marjory 
demanded. With Mr. Lawrence ? You’ll 
have the boys after you hot foot. You tore 
away from school so fast anybody’d have 
thought you were the one to cheat instead of 
Rosalie ” 

Babs seized her shoulders. 

What?” she demanded. 

'' Don’t you know ? Didn’t Miss Stites tell 
you? Rosalie copied from you in algebra 


197 


Midyears 

exam, and so she’s flunked, and your paper is 
marked 100. It’s all over the school. Why, 
Barby, dear, what’s the trouble?” 

For Babs was madly dancing in the middle 
of the floor, tears and laughter struggling for 
supremacy. 

** Glory, Glory Hallelujah ! ” she cried. 
‘‘ To think I’ve spent a perfectly miserable 
afternoon, — except for the Writer Man, — 
thinking you all thought I was the one, and 
it isn’t so at all. Faith, the heart of me’s 
jiggin’ so, I could ” 

She seized Marjory around the neck, and 
whirled her into the dance. Marjory laughed 
and hugged her warmly. But oh, poor 
Rosalie,” Babs said suddenly, I know just 
how she feels. Why, I felt terribly when I 
knew sure as anything I hadn’t done it. She 
must be — oh ! ” 

Let’s make the girls quit talking about 
it,” Maijory suggested, and Babs agreed 
heartily. 

Then she dragged Maijory to the desk, and 
showed her the pin and told her all about her 
wretchedness in the afternoon. 

And if it hadn’t been for the Writer 


198 Babs at Birchwood 

Man,” she concluded, Fd just as soon have 
died on the spot, I know I would.” 

He is a good friend to have, isn’t he ? ” 
Marjory agreed. He just puts heart into 
you. He’s said some pretty nice things about 
my first attempts at writing.” 

And he meant them,” rejoined Babs. 

“ I’m so crazy to get to college, and learn 
how to write stories,” Marjory went on, 
musingly. She was half lying on the win- 
dow seat, with the pufiy yellow cushions 
stacked behind her dark curls, watching Babs 
trying ineffectually to tidy her room. '' Just 
think, Babs, college is only a year and a half 
away, now.” 

Babs stared out at the darkness and her 
face was sober. 

You’re lucky,” she said solemnly. 

‘‘ Do you wish to go so much ? ” Marjory 
asked. 

'' Dying to,” Babs returned briefly. 

Marjory sat up. 

“ Well, I never. I didn’t dream anything 
could coax you from Moose Lake for four years. 
Well, now, let’s think how it can be fixed so 
you can go. Oh, there’s the dinner bell ” 


199 


Midyears 

Babs, radiant, found the dinner meal so 
different from what she had expected. The 
little pin over her heart seemed to keep a 
little song singing there, and except for her 
moments of feeling dreadfully sorry for poor 
little Rosalie, the evening was a gloriously 
happy one. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE CAVE 

Early in February Phyllis kept her prom- 
ise made to Gerald in the fall. The new 
members, six in number, had been taken into 
the Camp Fire Club, and they put their heads 
together and planned a wonderful supper for 
the Boy Scouts. Babs, whose originality and 
ability to make much of little had already 
won her a sort of leadership, had been ap- 
pointed chairman of the committee. With 
Gladys, Marjory and two or three others to 
help her, she managed to transform the Dutch 
living-room into a woodsy camp site. The 
walls were covered with evergreen boughs ; 
the fireplace had been ingeniously concealed 
with stumps and branches ; the furniture had 
been stored temporarily up-stairs, and every 
one sat on a carpet of moss and leaves. 

Well,^^ Mr. Lawrence looked around in 
approbation, ** this is nifty work.” His eyes 
200 


T^he Cave 


201 


traveled around the room again and took in 
the lanterns, hung in the branches of trees 
and on nails, in real camp style ; the box 
that served as a table, over which Babs, 
happily cook of the evening, was hovering 
with an eagle eye on the good things set 
forth. Smells to me like the Maine woods.” 

Babs looked up laughing. 

Well, it’s a pretty poor imitation of our 
woods, Mr. Writer Man,” she said, ** but it was 
the best I could do. Please all of you make 
yourselves uncomfortable on the ground. It’s 
going to take ages to cook for such a crowd, 
so I’m going to begin. You all might be tell- 
ing stories.” 

And while games and jokes went the 
round, interspersed with teasing comments 
and multitudinous directions to the flushed 
cooks, Babs and Marjory, with Gladys an ef- 
flcient helper, started the grub ” over the 
Camp Fire. There was sizzling fried ham and 
eggs ; corn-bread baked before the boys’ admir- 
ing eyes in a little tin oven that reflected the 
heat amazingly, and hot chocolate. For des- 
sert, Babs offered them the good old outdoor 
delicacy, — stewed prunes. 


202 Babs at Birchwood 

“ Of course, we could have had loads more 
to eat,” she said as she saw the boys licking 
their plates. But I wanted to cook just 
camp-y things. And honest, this is all you'd 
get if you were outdoors.” 

** And it's all we deserve,” Gerald said 
quicJily. It was certainly delicious itself. 
The fact tnat we are licking our plates is a 
compliment. I say that we cheer the Camp 
Fire girls.” 

The boys were really enthusiastic over the 
party. The little shiny oven had caught 
their eyes, and the girls' deftness in handling 
the meal stirred their admiration. They were 
eager to return the hospitality but were non- 
plussed as to a scheme that would equal this 
one. 

“ If you can give as clever a party as this,” 
Phyllis announced, we'll take you for an old 
fashioned sleigh-ride. Straw-ride, I mean.” 

'' We're on I ” Bob shouted. Come here, 
fellows. What's the matter with this? ” 

He whispered with them for a minute, and 
there was instantly unanimous delight. 

“ Girls — and Miss Stockton. It gives me 
great pleasure to announce,” said Bob, with 


The Cave 


203 


an elegant air of formality, that the Boy 
Scouts of Birchwood wish to invite the famous 
Camp Fire Club, one and all, and no more, to 
a winter picnic.” 

^^Winier picnic!” Clara was mystified. 

Boo I It doesn't appeal to me.” 

And cold-blooded little Rosalie, who was 
the pussy-cat type of girl, mentally shivered. 
Nevertheless, with the majority enthusiastic, 
and the minority curious, the invitation was 
accepted speedily. 

llie following Saturday a merry crowd, 
warmly and comfortably clad in mufiiers, 
mittens and mackinaws, followed the boys, 
who led them on snow-shoes, for two miles, 
over the Palisades. 

‘‘But where are we going?” Babs insisted. 
She was leading with the Writer Man. Her 
cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright. Some 
of the others had stopped along the trail to 
rest, but Babs and the long-legged Writer Man 
kept steadily on their way. 

“ Pm not going to tell you, miss,” he teased 
her. “ Wait and see.” 

And when they were within a stone's throw 
of the place he called her to halt until the 


204 Babs at Birchwood 

rest of the party came up, because he knew 
the boys would wish to be the ones to show 
their picnic place. With a shout the last one 
finally joined the impatiently waiting ones 
and Gerald clambered on a stump. 

“ Everybody here? he called. All right, 
then. Ahead of us is ' The Cave.' We 
weren't ever going to tell you girls about 
this, but we decided to be generous, so that's 
why you're here to-day. Now if you'll all 
follow me in single file, you may behold the 
havoc that nature wrought and man remedied 
and turned to account. Amen." 

He jumped down and started toward a huge 
mass of exposed earth and tree roots. In 
amazement they followed him and found that 
the cave " was a huge hole in the side of the 
hill, made by the uprooting of a mammoth 
tree. The roots, some of which still clung to 
earth above, formed a network roof overhead, 
through which smoke might curl unobstructed. 
The fallen trunk, with clinging earth, formed 
the front wall, and it was between this and one 
side of the hole that they all slipped through 
a passageway so small as at first to be over- 
looked. Within they found the boys had 


T*he Cave 


205 


been busy. Into the walls had been niched 
shelves and closets. The floor had been 
trampled hard and level. A stone fireplace 
had been built in one corner, and rudely con- 
structed tables and huge logs and a neatly 
stacked wood-pile promised comfort later. 

“ Oh, isnT this great ? Babs stood staring 
around. ** Say, Molly, this is clever, isn’t 
it?” 

Molly and Babs were perhaps the most ap- 
preciative guests that day. Being outdoor 
girls of long experience, they quite overlooked 
the dirt that would get into one’s plates, and 
the smoke that once in a while blew into one’s 
eyes, stinging one to a rush for air. And they 
had dressed themselves in woolen stockings 
and bloomers, so that the cold did not pierce 
through and make the hours a discomfort. 

To-day Bob was chief cook. Brandishing 
a long-handled pan he waved the eager Babs 
back to a log sofa. 

Oh, but I’m dying to help,” she cried, 
crestfallen. 

“ Die, then,” Bob replied, hard-heartedly. 

I’d rather you’d die before than after eating ; 
it’s more complimentary.” 


2 o 6 Babs at Birchwood 

And with Gerald to hold her down, Babs 
discovered what it was to be a guest and a 
lady of leisure. Not a girl was allowed to so 
much as pass a plate. And while dishes were 
being scrubbed in water procured by melting 
snow over the fire, the rest started a roaring 
blaze that thawed them all out after their in- 
activity and turned the chaffing and teasing 
into ringing song. 

At last the cooks and dishwashers were 
through cleaning and packing up and with a 
sigh they joined the others about the fire. 
Dusk was beginning to fall, for though it was 
early, the days were short and under the trees 
darkness came soon. 

“ We must be starting for home,^' Phyllis 
said. '' Don't sit down, boys." 

“ Wrong again," Bob answered, coolly. 

Sit we will, and sitting we are. You don't 
want to carry us home, do you? I don't 
mean to be impudent. Miss Phyllis," he added 
as he saw her glance rest on him. But have 
a heart. We've been cooking and cleaning 
for five hours. Mr. Lawrence has a peach of 
a ghost story he promised to tell us, and it's 
just getting boog-a-boo enough now. Please." 


The Cave 


207 

“ How long will it take, Mr. Lawrence ? ” 
Phyllis turned to him. 

Not more than ten minutes/’ he answered. 

I think it’ll be all right, if you are willing.” 

So Phyllis sat down again, and when shuf- 
flings and pokings had ceased, and the fire had 
died to a dull glow that enhanced the sur- 
rounded blackness, Mr. Lawrence’s voice from 
the shadows began the story of The Golden 
Arm.” 

Once upon a time there was a haunted 
house, set deep in some dark dark woods. 
Many people had determined to enter the 
house because there was said to be hidden 
there an arm of solid gold, and they one and 
all sought to make their fortunes thus, but the 
end of those who ventured was horrible. 
They either never appeared again, or they 
came screaming and stark crazy from the aw- 
ful hole.” 

“ Boo ! ” said some one. 

Mr. Lawrence waited until there was silence 
again. 

“ There was a particularly bold young man, 
who declared nothing could scare him. He’d 
go up there to that house, he said, and in it, 


2o8 


Babs at Birchwood 


and out again, and he'd bring with him the 
golden arm, and he wouldn't be crazy either. 
So he set the last night of July for his adven- 
ture. 

“As he started out boldly through the 
woods, a storm gathered. Overhead the sky 
was massing heavy thunder-clouds that occa- 
sionally rifted and let loose a brilliant bolt of 
lightning. The wind sighed and rushed 
through the trees. Branches crackled under- 
foot and other branches seemed to reach out 
human hands to clutch at him and hold him 
back. He was breathing deeply and was 
dripping with perspiration, though his hands 
and feet were clammy cold." 

Rosalie snuggled a little closer to Phyllis. 
Gerald threw a stick on the fire. After the 
first blaze had died away, the Writer Man's 
low slow tones tightened the atmosphere of 
suspense once again. In his story the storm 
increased in violence until when it was at its 
vrorst the young adventurer gained the shelter 
of the shaky porch, his hair fairly bristling 
with fear. 

“At last he gathered courage enough to 
push against the big door. With a creak and 


T^he Cave 


209 


a groan it yielded suddenly and he fell into 
the hall. One arm plunged through a rotten 
plank, and as he drew it up again he saw by 
a lightning flash that black and red spiders 
were hanging from each finger-tip and beetles 
and black bugs were crawling up his sleeve. 
In that same flash he saw bats circling over- 
head and rats gnawing on dead men's bones 
and a tumble-down staircase, green with 
slimy moss, over which horrid snakes slid and 
slipped." 

This was too much for the girls. There 
were shrieks of horror and protest, but the 
Writer Man knew how to tell a good story. 
When calm had been somewhat restored, he 
continued in his level way, dwelling just long 
enough on the terrifying aspects of the story, 
— the whining wind that ruffled the adven- 
turer's hair as he crawled up the bannisterless 
stairway ; the grewsome munching of the 
rats ; the trickling water on his hair ; the 
crawling spiders in his ears ; and over all the 
weird uncanny voice wailing , — ** Who's got 
my golden arm ? " 

Finally the hero gained the upper floor, 
jerked down the treasure, and amidst a terrific 


210 Babs at Birchwood 

noise and blinding flash stumbled his way 
down to the freedom of outdoors again. 
Though there were sighs of relief when the 
house burned up behind the man and he was 
safely on his way home again, the suspense 
was renewed as the Writer Man started him 
through the deep black woods again. 

With artistic care, he dwelt on the op- 
pressive silence, the whine of the wind in the 
trees that crept lower and lower demanding 
its golden arm, the increased weight of the 
arm that slipped and slid like a live thing in 
his grasp. 

At last the wind was low enough to blow 
his hat off and that time he heard it say very 
distinctly : 

^ Who^s got my golden arm ? ’ 

He clutched his treasure. It was now 
heavy as lead. He could not hold it in his 
arms and walk, so he heaved it on his back, 
with the hand of it at his neck and with both 
his own hands clasped under it behind him, 
he staggered on. 

“ The next time the wind drifted by it lifted 
his hair. 

“ ' Who's got my golden arm ? ' 


T’he Cave 


211 


He felt the arm on his back suddenly 
move. It stretched itself and then curled 
around his neck with its fingers against his 
throat. He was frightened and tried to move 
the pressing fingers, — but they suddenly dug 
into his throat — the arm circled tighter and 
tighter — he felt his eyes pop out — he was 
gasping — BOO ! ^ 

The Writer Man suddenly roared at them, 
and every one jumped as though shot. The/ 
fire blazed up and discovered some girls cling^ 
ing pale and big-eyed to each other, and the 
boys laughing foolishly. 

Gee I That's a pippin I " Bob jumped up. 

Did you make it up ? " 

The Writer Man shook his head. 

No, it's pretty ancient. You can string it 
along forever, and put the Boo in anywhere. 
Now we must hurry or the wind will be 
golden arming us." 

Fortunately for the more nervous members 
of the party a pale moon cast its silver light 
down on the dark wood, and though a shivery 
feeling crept down their backs now and then, 
they sang loud and lustily until composure 
was fully restored. 


CHAPTER XIII 
barbaka's first dance 

The next week, Barbara's good little old 
gun arrived from home. She had just un- 
packed it and was caressing it lovingly, when 
Marjory walked in. 

Well, Barbara Benson, what^s that for?^^ 
she exclaimed. 

** For company,'^ Babs answered stoutly. 
** I’ve missed it till I ached.” 

Been homesick, dear ? ” Marjory ques- 
tioned. 

In spots,” Babs nodded. Then seeing the 
distressed look on Marjory’s face, she hastened 
to add, “ But not often, truly. Only at 
Christmas, — and then Mother came, so that 
was all right, and again at Midyears, when — 

you know Only that turned out all 

right, too.” 

** So you really haven’t been homesick at 
all,” Marjory concluded, laughing. Well, if 
you knew what I know, you wouldn’t dream 
of home.” 


212 


Barbara s First Dance 


213 


What, oh, what ? ” Babs caught Marjory's 
arm eagerly. Oh, meany I To tease me so. 
Tell me quick, or I'll pop." 

“ A dance," said Marjory, impressively. 

A real live sure-enough dance, with orches- 
tra and flowers and refreshments and dance 
cards and white kid gloves and high-heeled 
slippers. Not a roll-back-the-rug-and-start- 
the-pianola kind we've had more or less all 
winter. Phyllis Stockton is giving it, and 
she's asked all us Camp Fire Girls, though 
everybody else is older." 

Oh, yummy ! " Babs' eyes shone. Do 
you realize, my dear, it's my first ? " 

Marjory nodded. 

** Now let's see your best dresses, Babsy. 
You must look your prettiest, you know." 

But one proved to be torn, another badl}^ 
stained, and the third was too plain. Marjory 
shook her head. 

None of those will do. We'll have to get 
you a new one, I guess." 

So the following Saturday, Babs gleefully 
accompanied her aunt and Marjory into the 
city, and they picked out a dream of a 
dress," as Babs said. It was a white silk, 


214 


Babs at Birchwood 


with dainty blue embroidery on it, and a 
delicious blue sash tied in a graceful bow at 
the side. Babs turned and turned in wordless 
delight before the mirror. 

‘‘ I do love pretty clothes, she sighed. “ I 
wish they could always stay new and fresh.” 

“ You must learn to take better care of your 
things, my dear,” Aunt Madge said. Fve 
noticed you are getting careless.” 

I am. Auntie,” Babs admitted mournfully. 
“ I am. I abominate sewing, you know, and 
I always take the chance that nobody^l see 

there^s a button off. But this ” she 

viewed herself again. I^d be perfectly happy 
to be a wall-flower in this. EveryboSy^d look 
at me, then.” 

The night of the dance arrived, and Babs 
and Marjory, very dainty and sweet, — Mar- 
jory in deep yellow that brought out the 
shine of her dark eyes and hair, and Babs in 
the blue and white that enhanced the gold 
in hers, — nestled back in the cushioned 
limousine that whirled them on their way to 
the festivities. 

The night was warm for early April and 
the buds and blossoms scented the heavy air 


Barbara's First Dance 


^17 

with their wordless warning of spring. CoIoit 
from excitement and warmth glowed on the 
girls’ cheeks and, as they stepped from the 
car to the brilliantly lighted veranda on 
which girls with dainty scarfs around their 
shoulders were flocking with their partners, 
Babs clutched Marjory’s arm. 

Pinch me, Maije. Is this real ? Is this 
me? I’m thinking of the dance in the woods 
I took you to ” 

** Come on, hurry up, we’re late,” Marjory 
interrupted, and with smiles and nods to all 
her friends, she led the way into the wide 
smooth-floored hall, up the broad stairs and 
into a big bedroom where a quiet, deft maid 
helped them off with their wraps and carriage 
boots. 

Babs looked around at the v/ide four-posted 
mahogany bed ; at the dainty dressing-table 
where Marjory was busy ; at the bright lights 
and dainty curtains ; at the group of flower- 
like girls chattering by the long mirror as 
they pulled on smooth long white gloves, and 
she drew a deep breath. Was it really she ? 
Little Babs of the woods, amidst such luxury ? 
Was it true she was wearing silk stockings and 


214^ 


Babs at Birchwood 


-jatin slippers and a lace petticoat? Would 
she wake up soon and find herself in the open 
shack in the woods, hopping over splintery 
boards with Tim, to the tune of the old rag- 
time, wheezed out by the organ and the violin ? 
She pinched herself, just for fun, and then 
followed Marjory down-stairs again. 

The orchestra, hidden behind tall palms 
and plants, was softly playing the most fas- 
cinating Hawaiian music. Flowers, great 
bunches of roses, were dropping from big 
bowls and tall vases everywhere. Through 
an open doorway, Babs glimpsed a shining 
table on which stood a huge punch bowl, and 
she heard the tinkling of gleaming glass, and 
the soft murmur of voices, punctuated now 
and then by a laugh. Over the smooth fioor 
in the hall and big living-room couples were 
dancing merrily. Babs hung over the rail- 
ing, speechless and breathless, all unconscious 
of the fact that Marjory had gone on down. 

‘‘ Hello, there I said a voice behind her, 
and in genuine astonishment she whirled. 

Why, Donald I I didn’t dream you’d be 
here I Is Allen here too ? Oh, how nice I 
Phyllis must have asked you ’specially for us 


Barbara s First Dance 217 

because we doii^t know any grown up men. I 
feel sure of two dances, anyway. Isn't this 
marvelous, Don ? " she went on in an awed whis- 
per. Why, it's so pretty, — it really hurts." 

She slipped a hand over her heart as she 
spoke and stared with tear-filled eyes at him. 
Then she laughed. 

** Oh, I'm a gumpy, I know. But just re- 
member, this is spick and span new for me. 
Oh, dear, Marjory's gone, and I haven't met 
Mrs. Stockton, and of course we must speak 
to her. Come with me, Don," she begged. 

“ Sure," he replied. 

And so it happened that when Clara and 
Gladys first saw Barbara, she was radiantly 
smiling into Mrs. Stockton's amused face, and 
her happiness, together with the exquisite 
little dress she wore, made her look really 
beautiful. Her hair hung in a wavy mass 
loose down her back, and her hands and arms 
were covered by spotless white gloves. For a 
second they stared unbelieving, then Gladys 
whispered : 

Oh, Clara I Isn't she lovely ? " 

As Babs turned away with Donald at her 
side, Allen hurried up to them and scratched 


2i8 


Babs at Birchwood 


his name three or four times in her dance 
card. Babs’ delight was so genuine that all 
those around her turned to stare, but she was 
serenely unconscious. 

Isn’t this heavenly, Don ? ” she whispered 
in his ear, as they started off on the first 
dance. I’m not awfully well acquainted with 
these new steps, but maybe a real boy can 
lead better than a girl.” 

And so it proved. Donald was an excel- 
lent dancer, and his strong arm guided her 
surely. Besides, the music was perfect in its 
rhythm and Barbara’s free-limbed body, so 
used to motion, swung lightly and gracefully 
into the step, and Marjory nodded in surprised 
delight over Allen’s shoulder as they passed. 

The moments sped by and Barbara was joy- 
fully whirled about by Allen and Gerald and 
Bob, who lost no time in claiming dances. 
Mr. McIntyre was there, too, and deserted the 
older girls once or twice for Babs’ company. 
She introduced him to Marjory, who was kept 
as busy as she, and when she finally had a 
minute to rest, she sank down beside Clara, 
who had left her corner only three or four 
times. 


Barbara s First Dance 219 

“Oh, isn’t it fan?” she breathed, unaware 
of Clara’s rather forsaken air. “ Why, it’s 
just like heaven, even to the gold harps. 
They have one ; I peeked,” she said. “ Well, 
here comes that Willis boy Marjory introduced 
me to. Yes, I’m ready.” She smiled up at 
the awkward youth, who shifted unhappily be- 
fore her. “Maybe you’d rather sit it out?” 
she said suddenly, divining his bashfulness. 
“ Here, sit between us. With a girl on either 
side of you,” she teased him, “ to chatter in 
each ear, you won’t have to say a word.” 

But Clara frowned and turned a cold 
shoulder on the blushing boy, who sat so 
stiffly with a gloved hand on either knee. 
Gerald and Bob, who had danced with her 
once, and Allen, who had unfortunately asked 
for one of those dances and had not come 
back a second time, had been her only part- 
ners, and she was hurt and embarrassed. Even 
Gladys — elfish, witch-like Gladys, with her 
dark little face and ill-fitting clothes, was 
dancing more than she, and joy shone in her 
flashing smile. 

As Donald came up to claim the next dance 
with Babs she stood ready for him, then sud- 


220 


Babs at Birchwood 


denly she turned and included Clara in the 
conversation. 

“ You remember Clara, don’t you, Don ? 
She skated with us last Thanksgiving. I 
thought you did. Well, Don, listen. I’ve 
been dancing every minute, and I’m a wreck 
of my former sprightly self. My hair is 
every which way and — to be honest — these 
beeyootiful slippers plain hurt, I’m not used 
to high heels. Clara will take care of you this 
dance. Excuse me.” 

And she slipped away to go to the dressing- 
room. Of course this little thoughtful act of 
Babs led Clara from one partner to another, 
for Donald would not leave her alone. Allen 
reappeared, Mr. McIntyre was introduced, and 
by the time the supper dance came around, 
Clara was radiant again. While Donald and 
Allen, Gerald and Bob and Mr. McIntyre were 
collecting chairs in a window seat, Clara 
whispered to Babs : 

” Thank you, Babs. That was dear of 
you.” 

” Dear nothing,” Babs answered. “ My foot 
did hurt.” 

Throughout the supper Babs kept the 


Barbara's First Dance 221 

crowd of them in gales of laughter telling 
them about the dance in the woods she had 
taken Marjory to, and this led to the de- 
scription of the country school where Marjory 
had sampled her first Indian radish. 

In the midst of the fun, Clara slipped away 
up-stairs to get a clean handkerchief. A min- 
ute later, she startled them all by flying down 
with wide eyes and pale cheeks. 

Oh, go up-stairs, quick. It^s a fire I In 
our dressing-room,’^ she panted. 

There was excitement for ten or fifteen 
minutes, but the prompt action of the men 
and a few boys saved the fire from being 
dangerous. It had caught from a candle on '' 
the dresser, and though that piece of furni- 
ture was ruined and the rug, none of the 
wraps were damaged. When the confusion 
was past, they all settled down again and 
supper was finished in serenity. 

At last the wonderful evening came to an 
end. Babs, weary, but serenely content, sat 
still in a corner by a big palm, waiting for 
Marjory to finish her good-nights. Quite un- 
conscious that she was listening, she heard 
this conversation between two ladies. 


222 Babs at Birchwood 

“ Who is that charming little friend Marjory 
Kennedy brought with her to-night 

It^s her cousin, Ada. Isn’t she unusual ? 
She is spending the winter with the Kennedys. 
She has had a most interesting life in the 
wilds of the Maine woods, I believe, and this 
is her first trip to civilization. Mrs. Kennedy 
is putting her through school and doing 
everything for her — even to clothes — as she 
would for Marjory. So glad you could come. 
Good-night.” 

For a dazed moment Babs sat there, then, 
as Marjory came down amidst a group of 
chattering girls, she joined them, and her 
silence was unnoticed until they were alone 
together on the way home. 

“What is it, Babs? Tired?” Marjory 
slipped her hand into Barbara’s. 

“ No, only — stupid I ” Babs burst out. 
“ Why, Marjory, do you know I never 
knew until to-night that you were paying my 
way at school ? Of course it was stupid, but 
I thought it was just like our public school at 
home. And here you’ve been buying all 
my clothes — and — everything. Oh, I’m so 
ashamed.” 


Barbara's First Dance 


223 


“ Ashamed ? Why, Bab^ dear, there^s noth- 
ing to be ashamed~Of!^ Mot her's loved doing 
it — and Daddy. D0n^i':yo!n;TOmei^ 
said the first day you got here she wanted to 
treat you like a second daughter and do for 
you as she did for me? That was what she 
meant." 

But I didn't know," Babs cried. '' Why, 
I've been just an appendage — hanging on — 
just like a tail to a dog. A — a — parasite. 
That's what you call 'em. Why, I'm ashamed 
to death." 

“ But Babs " Marjory was really dis- 

tressed at Babs' way of taking what she and 
her mother had rather dreaded her finding 
out. 

Well, never mind to-night, Marjory dear. 
Let's not spoil the evening thinking what a 
chumpy-chump I've been," said Babs lightly. 
And Marjory believed she had cast it aside. 

But Barbara was thinking hard. 


CHAPTER XIV 


LOST 

Babs lay awake a long time that night, 
thinking. The evening had been another 
dream come true, and Babs loved to go over 
it all in detail. But the dance did not wholly 
occupy her mind. Constantly the words of 
the two ladies kept recurring to her. 

Mrs. Kennedy is doing everything for her, 
school and even clothes.” 

To be sure she had. As Babs recalled the 
number of things that had been given her 
and done for her, the enormity of the debt 
she owed these dear people loomed large. 

Why, pocket money I And trips — and — 
and — millions of things, besides school and 
clothes.” 

She burned with shame to think that in 
her ignorance the little bits of money her 
father had sent and that she had so re- 
224 


Lost 


225 

ligiously passed on to Aunt Madge, she had 
felt paid her way. 

Why, I don't even know what my party 
dress cost," she said suddenly in the darkness. 
“ But, let me see. Well, comparing it with 
Marjory's, that I do just happen to know, it 
must have been twenty-five or thirty dollars." 
She was dumb for a space. 

** And here I've treated them as though 
they were made of — of gunny-sack. Just 

throwing them around and tearing them " 

She hid her face in deepest shame in her 
pillow. It was dreadfully hard for this in- 
dependent little girl to find herself suddenly 
in the position of a “ charity relative," as she 
insisted upon terming it. Over and over she 
asked herself what she should do. She knew 
that Aunt Madge would never in the world 
listen to any thought of her returning it, or 
going back home, and yet she felt she could 
not go on in this way. 

Oh, what shall I do ? " she cried. And 
then she suddenly knew what the first step 
would be. She would go in and talk to 
Molly. Maybe Molly could give her a sug- 
gestion. 


226 


Babs at Birchwood 


** And ril walk to New York, too,'" she 
flashed. “ That won't cost anything. Here's 
a beginning of standing on my own two feet." 

So, somewhat relieved mentally, she fell 
asleep. 

The next morning, Saturday, she was up 
before the household was astir. Dressing her- 
self hastily in walking shoes and sturdy 
skirt, with her hair in two braids down her 
back, she stole down-stairs, paused for a mo- 
ment to write a note to Aunt Madge and then 
went on out. 

Overhead the sky was the cloudless blue 
that warns of storms to come. The birds were 
chirping merrily in the trees. The hyacinths 
and violets and crocuses in the garden close 
to the house were bright with their first 
colors. The brown earth sent up a rich warm 
smell. Babs sniffed joyously in pure delight, 
then she started walking down the drive and 
out on the road toward the city. 

I think," she mused, on the way, ** that 
it's shorter to cut through the woods than 
follow the state road. So," she struck into the 
woodland as she spoke. 

" Oh, this is great ! " She drew long 



SHE WAS UP BEFORE THE HOUSEHOLD WAS ASTIR 




Lost 


227 


breaths of the fragrant spring air. “ Why 
haven’t I ever done this before? Such a 
silly, when I love walking so. Hello, dear 
little anemones. And violets, too. No use 
to hide like that. I saw you. And you 
lovely arbutus ! ” 

She dropped on her knees to caress the first 
spring flowers, but she would not pull them. 

You’d only die, you sweet things, and 
you love to live, of course. Now I must 
hurry.” 

But her joy in the woods delayed her prog- 
ress. She found herself wandering off the 
trail for a peep at this and a squint at that, 
and before she knew it noon was upon her 
with its heat. 

Guess I must be getting soft,” she sighed, 
sinking on a mossy stone. I’m tired, posi- 
tively tired. I’ll just nibble this chocolate 
and cracker and then hustle on, or I won’t 
get there.” 

But she could not hustle as she had planned. 
For some reason her boots hurt her ; and 
whether it was the languid spring air or 
whether her sheltered year had really softened 
her, she did not know ; but she could not 


228 


Babs at Birchwood 


swing along easily, as she used to. Further- 
more, the farther she went from home the 
denser grew the underbrush, and there was 
no path at all, finally. With her eye on the 
sun she tried stubbornly to make her way, 
but when that went down under a gathering 
bank of thunder-clouds she sat down si^ddenly. 

I'm lost," she announced to a squirrel. 

Plain lost." She laughed. It's funny, 
too, isn't it, Mr. Bright Eyes ? When I was 
brought up in the woods ? However, if I am, 
I am." 

So she settled herself against a tree, her 
gun across her knees. 

In the meantime Marjory, when she awoke 
in the morning, fiew as usual to Babs' room. 
The tumbled bed and disordered room, empty, 
amazed her. 

Babs I Babs ! " she called, but no answer 
came. Her mother joined her, but they de- 
cided she had just gone out early in the spring 
time. However, when she did not appear for 
breakfast, they grew a little worried, and at 
last Marjory ran down to the Writer Man's to 
see if she was there. 

“ Why, no," he answered, surprised at the 


Lost 


229 

early call. ** She hasn't been here. Didn't 
she leave a note ? " 

“ Oh, we never looked," Marjory confessed, 
and forthwith flew back to her mother. 

Here, dear," her mother said, after they 
had looked up-stairs in the bedrooms. 
“ There's a note here." She lifted the ink- 
well from the desk in the living-room. 
“ Let's see " 

Dear people," she read. ** I'm off on a 
day's trip in the woods. In fact, I've decided 
to walk to Molly's. Don't worry. Fifteen 
miles is a song and a dance to me. I'll be back 
for dinner. Babs. P. S. Besides, I have my 
gun." 

They looked at each other in amazement, 
then Marjory laughed. 

Well, to tell the truth. Mother, I'm not 
awfully surprised. She's really settled down 
to our tame life quite well. I've been waiting 
for a — a — Babsy trick like this, for a long 
while." 

Her mother smiled too, albeit she felt 
anxious. 

‘‘She doesn't know the way," she said 
doubtfully. 


230 Babs at Birchwood 

You don’t know her,” Marjory replied. 

You can’t lose Babs in the woods. She’s a 
regular Indian about getting around.” 

Nevertheless, Mrs. Kennedy felt uneasy, 
and at noontime she called up her husband. 

Please send a messenger up to Aunt 
Jule’s,” she said. Babs has done a crazy 
thing. She started this morning for New 
York, — walking. And I’m worried about 
her. Aunt Jule has no ’phone, you know, 
and we can’t find out a thing.” 

“ All right, dear,” he answered. “ I’ll let 
you know.” 

An hour later he called her from New 
York. 

Aunt Jule and Molly have gone out. We 
can’t find out when they’ll be back, or where 
they’ve gone. What do you want me to do 
now ? ” 

Oh, I think you’d better come home, 
dear,” Aunt Madge said. There’s a thunder- 
storm coming up, and I won’t feel easy until 
I know where she is. We may have to start 
a searching party. Can’t you leave word with 
some one for Aunt Jule to call us when she 
comes in ? ” 


Lost 


231 


All right, all right,*' he assured her. 
“ ril fix it. And I'll be home by four o'clock, 
surely." 

Despite Marjory's constant assurances to 
her mother, she began to be a little disturbed 
herself as the afternoon wore away. Suddenly 
it flashed over her, — Babs' discovery the night 
before at the dance — and for a moment doubt 
entered her mind as to whether Babs had 
really started for Molly's — or further. Then 
she dismissed the idea, until Aunt Jule called 
up to say that Babs was not there, and as far 
as they knew, no one had been there since 
they went out. With promises to let them 
know as soon as Babs was found, she rang 
off. 

At last Mr. Kennedy reached home, and on 
hearing the news in detail, he swiftly or- 
ganized a searching party with the boys and 
men he could reach by telephone. 

When the dozen or so had collected on the 
front steps a little before six o'clock, with Bob 
and Gerald among the older men, Mr. Ken- 
nedy spoke to them. 

I'm not afraid anything can happen to 
her," he said, quietly. She's a self-reliant 


232 Babs at Birchwood 

little girl. Besides, Barbara has her gun. 
But we must find her before the storm breaks, 
and darkness comes.” 

As he finished speaking, they turned to go, 
when suddenly a little figure slipped up to 
him. Looking down he saw Marjory, dressed 
ready to tramp. 

‘‘ I^ve got to go. Dad,” she whispered, her 
eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling. “ It^s 
fierce, — just waiting home. 1^11 walk as fast 
as any of you. Besides, maybe 1 can help. 
Please.” 

Her father hesitated, but seeing the very 
real trouble on his daughter’s face, and be- 
lieving they would find her after a few min- 
utes’ search, he yielded, and they swung off 
after the others. 

They made straight for the Palisades, for 
Marjory had shown her father Babs’ note. It 
seemed miles and miles that they walked, to 
Marjory, trudging patiently along, silent and 
pale. She listened with straining ears after 
each Hallo I Babs I ” that went ringing 
through the woods, darkening with the 
twilight and coming storm. She watched 
with unblinking eyes the bobbing of the Ian- 


Lost 


233 


terns that seemed to make the surrounding 
blackness blacker. She shivered when little 
rustles and stirrings in the bushes were heard 
as they passed. How could Babs be brave 
enough to face those woods at night ? 

They scoured the first hill with no success. 
They then began on the next, and woke up 
a whole gypsy encampment they stumbled 
across, asking if they knew anything of Babs. 
The older men poked and searched in each 
tent and wagon, fearing she might be in hid- 
ing, but that too was fruitless. 

By this time, Mr. Kennedy's face was stern 
with anxiety. He called the men around 
him. 

** Well, friends, it's now nine o'clock, and 
we've just begun, I fear. From now on the 
woods are thicker, — don't let a bush escape 
you." 

Marjory, aching and trembling, was swung 
up on her father's broad shoulders and they 
continued the search in a careful anxiety that 
made them all quieter. Their progress was 
slower because of the dense underbrush, and 
ever there came to them the distant rumblings 
of thunder. 


234 


Babs at Birchwood 


Marjory, with time to think, was tortured 
with self-reproach. She felt the misfortune 
to be all her fault because of her carelessness 
of Babs^ trouble the night before, and over 
and over she planned what she would say to 
Babs when they found her. The night grew 
blacker and blacker. She felt her father's 
shoulders, wet with perspiration, under her 
hands. The boys were lagging and the men 
were halting more often. The air seemed to 
be pressed in closer to them by the thick 
woods, and the occasional flashes only made 
the dark seem more terrible to Marjory's 
agonized mind. 

'' Please, God," she began to whisper. 

Please, God, help us to find her. I'm so 
sorry " 

Her broken prayer was cut off by a swift 
flash that was immediately followed by a ter- 
rific thunder crash. She clapped her hands 
to her ears, then jerked them down and sent 
them flying around her father's neck. 

Oh, Daddy I Her hair ribbon, here in 
this branch. I just happened to look down. 
Oh, find her quick, before the storm comes. 
It's going to be awful in here." 


Lost 


235 


Slowly the storm crept near. Louder grew 
the thunder and more vivid the lightning. 
Marjory was silent now, her breath coming in 
little gasps as she fancied Babs’ terror to be 
alone there, and lost. 

Suddenly Gerald's voice shouted to them 
from far down the hillside. Her father 
turned and swung rapidly in that direction. 
To Marjory, clinging fast and praying hard, 
that last run seemed the longest of any, but 
at last they stood with the others, by a plac- 
idly sleeping little figure under a tree. 

Somehow Marjory scrambled down the 
great length of her father. Somehow she got 
her arms around Babs, and somehow blurted 
out something. 

Oh, Babs, dear. You awful old dear. 
Don't you know you've given us the scare of 
our lives ? " 

Babs sat up and rubbed her eyes and looked 
in amazement at the crowd around her. 

<< Why, I'm so sorry," she said dazedly. " I 
got lost. And I thought if you came for me 
it would be easier to find a sitting-still lost 
person than a walking-around one, and if you 
didn't come for me, why, maybe the sun 


236 Babs at Birchwood 

would be out to-morrow, and I’d go on — or 
back.” 

At her cheerful philosophy, Marjory sat 
back and laughed. 

“ And you — that we were all on our ears 
about — calmly asleep. Oh, Babs.” 

Babs looked around at the group of men 
and boys, at the bobbing lanterns, behind the 
light of which the woods looked very black 
and gruesome. Then as a flash and crash 
came, she cried : 

“ Well, I’m certainly sorry to have made all 
this fuss, but — honest, people, I’m glad you 
found me before I woke up. These woods are 
— so different from the home woods. I Icnow 
there are bears and things in the woods home, 
but I don’t know what’s in these I ” 

On the walk home, below the roar of the 
wind and thunder and the sound of the men’s 
voices, Babs told Marjory why she had started 
on her escapade. 

“ I thought so,” Marjory murmured, but 
Babs interrupted. 

'^Well, anyway, I see now,” she said. 

Before I fell asleep, I thought it all out, and 
I see that it doesn’t matter a picayune how 


Lost 


237 


much you give me, because you just do it in 
love. And giving and taking in love isn't a 
bargain business. Nobody has to keep track." 

Marjory nodded and caught her hand and 
held it close for the rest of the way home 
until they came at last in sight of the dear 
white house where Mrs. Kennedy was waiting 
with straining face at the window. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE FIRST FIRE MAKERS 

True to their word, the Camp Fire girls 
had given the boys a straw-ride over frozen 
roads, before the winter passed, and this had 
been followed by a bobbing party gotten up 
by the boys. All these informal healthy 
times soon rubbed away Clara's self-com- 
placent air and her knowing manner of pretti- 
ness. There crept, too, into Rosalie’s pale 
cheeks a delicate flush, for Rosalie was a good 
little sport, and though she spent many miser- 
able hours flghting back tears of fatigue and 
cold, she was always game to ** stick along ” 
the next time. As for Babs and Molly, they 
welcomed all the gaieties like children 
starved. To have neighbors and jollities so 
readily to hand was a novelty to them and 
they made the most of them. 

But in between the frolics the girls were 
working earnestly and waiting patiently for 
their Guardian to raise them to the rank of 
238 


The First Fire Makers 


239 


Fire Maker. Gladys was curbing her tongue 
with great success ; Clara was burning fingers 
and blistering feet in her efforts to prove her- 
self capable in more than one line of work ; 
little Rosalie felt that her mid-year disgrace 
and failure to “ play the game squarely had 
put her out of the running for a limitless 
space of time, but she plugged along faith- 
fully in spite of lost hope. And Babs, — it 
was not only Camp Fire, but her discovery 
the night of the dance, that was enabling her 
to conquer her besetting sin, — untidiness as 
to her personal appearance. Diligently she 
pocketed each fallen button until a moment 
came to sew it on ; sternly she set herself to 
ironing frills and collars, and half attached 
belts or knotted shoe-laces were seen no more 
on Babs. 

Still ceremonial meeting after ceremonial 
meeting came and went and though the new 
members were raised to the Wood Qatherer^s 
rank, no one of the others received her Fire 
Maker’s bracelet. The last meeting they had 
in their little club house before spring came 
luring them to meeting places in the woods, 
Phyllis faced her circle with a shining face. 


240 


Babs at Birchwood 


In the centre on the floor stood three white 
candles and a deep blue one, all unlit. 

You will all rejoice, I am sure, with the 
three girls who are to-day ready to become 
Fire Makers.^' She paused and smiled, and 
each girFs heart began thumping with hope. 

These girls I have seen striving faithfully 
to live up to the standard that I have set for 
them, and I think the time has come for their 
efforts to have its reward. I wanted to use 
the candle ceremony to-day instead of the 
Fire, for a reason that you will see later. 
Osehagea, will you light the candle of work ? 

Molly came forward to the centre of the 
circle, where the candles were standing. 
Stooping, she lit one of the white ones. Her 
voice trembled a bit, as she wondered if, be- 
cause she was chosen to light a candle, she was 
to become one of the honored ones to-night. 

I am lighting the light of work, for 
Wohelo means work,'^ she began. “ We 
glorify work, because through work we are 
free. We work to win, to conquer, to be 
masters. We work for the joy of working 
and because we are free.*^ 

“ Shumulua ? 


The First Fire Makers 241 

Marjory, her dusky braids shining in the 
dim light, her lovely face flushed with earnest- 
ness, knelt and lit the second white candle. 

I am lighting the light of health, for 
Wohelo means health. We hold on to health 
because through health we serve and are 
happy. In caring for the health and beauty 
of our persons we are caring for the very 
shrine of the great spirit.^' 

“ Wicaka ? ” 

Babs lit the last white candle. Her words 
came a bit breathlessly at first, but because 
her heart was in them, her voice soon steadied 
and the room was utterly silent as she finally 
finished the ceremony. 

I am lighting the light of love, for 
Wohelo means love. We love love, for love 
is life and light and joy and sweetness. And 
love is comradeship and motherhood and 
fatherhood and all dear kinship. Love is the 
joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.^’ 

Back in their places in the circle the girls 
waited while Phyllis slowly bent over the 
fourth, the blue candle. 

‘‘ From the three candles of work, health, 
and love, I light the light of friendship,'^ 


242 


Babs at Birchwood 


she said. For Otakuye means friendship. 
Friendship is work in joyous comradeship ; 
friendship is health in frolic and fun ; and 
friendship is love in thoughtful deeds and 
kind words.'^ 

The fourth blue candle was Phyllis^ own 
addition to the regular ceremonial of the 
Camp Fire, and the surprised faces of the girls 
expressed pleasure. Kneeling over the little 
flickering flames, her face alight with the 
sweet seriousness that characterized her, Phyl- 
lis spoke their names. 

** Wicaka, Shumulua, and Osehagea, I am 
happy to make you all Fire Makers to-day. 
You have been trying in every way to live up 
to the standard I as Guardian have set for you. 
Osehagea, — lover of freedom and worshipper 
of the bird of liberty — you have more nearly 
than any one realized my ideal of Fire Maker. 
Shumulua, it is in particular your earnest 
eflbrt to make the most of the writing ability 
you possess that prompts me to raise your 
rank to-day. And Wicaka, — faithful heart, 
— it is your sincerity in all things, your happy 
hearted helpfulness in all things and your 
eflbrt to keep your thoughts and heart as clean 


"The First Fire Makers 


243 

and sweet as you keep your person, that gives 
you the right to wear the bracelet to-day.” 

She rose and going to each girl slipped over 
their arms the silver bracelet. Back once 
more in her place she repeated the lines : 

Upon your arm a charm I place, 

A charm of unseen fire 

To burn within your heart of hearts 

And light your soul to its desire.” 

The three Fire Makers, Molly, Marjory, and 
Babs, were supremely happy. Phyllis had 
made them wait and work so long for their 
reward that it was doubly dear to them. 
Their faces shone with earnestness as, in reply 
to her, they pledged their Fire Maker’s Re- 
solve. 

“ As fuel is brought to the Fire 
So I purpose to bring 
My strength, my ambition, 

My hearths desire, my joy and my sorrow 
To the fire of human kind. 

For I will tend 
As my fathers have tended 
And my father^ s fathers 
Since time began. 

The fire that is called 
The love of man for man 
The love of man for God.” 


Babs at Birchwood 


244 

“ And now/^ Phyllis faced the group, “ I 
have been revolving something in my mind, 
and I have at last reached a decision. As you 
all know, no one may become a Torch Bearer 
until she is fifteen. For you three and the 
rest of the older girls, the time will not be 
long, because some of you are already fifteen, 
and the rest will be soon. But for some of 
the newer and younger members, iPs going to 
be a long wait, for two or three of you will 
become Fire Makers shortly, and you are only 
thirteen. It hasnT seemed fair to me to keep 
those of you waiting two years when in every- 
thing but age I might consider you ready.*' 

She paused. 

So," she concluded, “ I have, on my own 
initiative, created a rank to be attained before 
that of Torch Bearer. It is called Flame 
Tender. First, you see, you are Wood Gath- 
erers, then Fire Makers, then you must tend 
the flame of our own Camp Fire a certain 
length of time before you are ready to bear 
the torch on to others. It seemed to me 
logical. The requirements are these." 

She read from a paper she held in her 
hand. 


"The First Fire Makers 245 

1. Keep track of the cost of your clothes 
for six months. 

2. Know all the Camp Fire songs and 
motions and poems. 

3. Lead a Ceremonial Meeting. 

*‘4. Learn what it costs your mother to 
feed your family for a week, then do the 
ordering for her for one week yourself, on 
that amount. 

** 5. Earn $5.00 all at one time, or at dif- 
ferent times throughout a year.^' 

The girls applauded. 

'' Oh, that's great." 

“ Do we get anything — like the Wood 
Gatherer's ring, or the Fire Maker's brace- 
let?" 

Phyllis nodded. 

“ You will receive a watch charm, — two 
silver links, symbol of our Camp Fire, when 
you win this rank. I have a sample here. 
Do you like it ? " 

She passed it around for their inspection. 
They were most enthusiastic, and Phyllis felt 
well pleased with her idea. After the formal 
meeting of the day was over and supper was 
in progress, for they always had supper to- 


246 Babs at Birchwood 

gether after the ceremonial, Phyllis made an- 
other announcement. 

“ 1 have found a way for Camp Fire girls 
to aid the town in a small way,'" she said. 
“ As you all know, there have been numerous 
burglaries, — so many, in fact, that Mr. Ken- 
nedy has been appointed by the mayor to 
formulate a plan for the catching of the 
thieves. He has officially enrolled the Boy 
Scouts and any others over fifteen who will 
offer their services. They are to be on guard 
all night and every night until the rascals are 
caught. Of course the watch is divided and 
the first set is relieved at two, I believe. Now 
we girls can't carry pistols or guard or hunt 
through the woods, but we can keep our eyes 
and ears open and look out for any strangers 
that may be lurking around town. There 
have been a good many lately, salesmen and 
agents and one thing and another. If they 
come to your house get a good look at them, 
try and draw them out, watch where they go 
from you. Be as really like detectives as you 
can and whatever information you get give to 
Mr. Kennedy." 

The girls were listening wide-eyed. 


The First Fire Makers 247 

‘‘There was a salesman at school just yes- 
terday/' Maijory said. “ I thought he had a 
wicked look in his eye." 

“ Excuse me I " Rosalie was emphatic in 
her fear. “ I'll stay in bed till this is 
over." 

“ Oh, couldn't we help the boys hunt or 
guard or something ? " Babs begged. “ I can 
shoot. And I'll bet a nickel I could find their 
haunt in the woods." 

“ She could, Phyllis," Marjory put in. 
‘‘ She's a regular Indian." 

Phyllis smiled, but shook her head. 

“ Don't do anything foolish, girls. I 
wouldn't think of letting you join the boys 
on guard, but you may be even more helpful 
in the way I have suggested." 

This news combined with all the happen- 
ings of the day kept the girls babbling late 
until with a horrified look at the clock Phyl- 
lis sprang up. 

“ Girls I Hustle I You'll be locked out. 
It’s nearly ten." 

And in a second she herded the boarding- 
school girls out of the house. 

That night Babs and Molly and Marjory 


248 Babs at Birchwood 

talked long and late as they curled up on 
Babs^ double bed. 

It means so much more — to have had to 
work and wait for it, doesn^t it?’^ Babs 
asked, turning her bracelet on her arm. 

Heaps,” Marjory replied, fervently. 

Molly looked at them with eyes darkened 
with excitement and happiness. 

** If Camp Fire means so much to you peo- 
ple, what do you suppose it means to me ? ” 
she demanded. Why, girls, it’s as near 
heaven as I want to get for a good long time.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


A BURGLAK SCARE 

In the latter part of April, as the guarding 
system became more efficient, the burglaries 
ceased and the people were willing to settle 
back into their old undisturbed way of living 
again, but Mr. Kennedy was firm. ** No,'’ he 
said, we must catch them first. I fancy 
they are only waiting for a let up in our vigi- 
lance. They must learn their lesson, else, in 
the future, we'll be troubled more than once." 

So it was that, with the first scare gone, the 
girls, Marjory, Babs and spirited Gladys, with 
occasionally Clara, who hated to miss any ex- 
citement, were finally allowed to hunt through 
the woods themselves for the lair of the bur- 
glars. Of course the boys, in their scout uni- 
forms, always accompanied them and, armed 
with pistols, felt very brave and adventurous. 
As time passed and the burglars seemed to 
have disappeared entirely, the young people 
249 


250 Babs at Birchwood 

grew still more bold and explored farther into 
the woods than ever before. 

One warm sunny day in May they were 
trailing their way up the piny path, Marjory 
and Gerald in the lead, with Gladys and 
Clara close seconds. Clara, dressed in thin 
dress and pumps, had to go carefully over 
the muddy trail, and this rather delayed 
progress. Even so, Babs, the quick-footed, 
with Bob in attendance, was far behind. She 
was letting nothing escape her keen eyes, 
trained to woodland mysteries, and Bob was 
quite content to linger with her. He was an 
alert, mischievous lad, talkative and impu- 
dent with fine gray eyes and a straight-set 
mouth. Since the time of Barbara’s rescue 
of Rosalie he had decided she was “ all to the 
merry,” and though he could never get ahead 
of her gay chatter, and answer her quick 
tongue, he enjoyed lively tilts with her. 

The path wound up and up until, at the 
summit, it turned and plunged down again 
and came out just across the tracks from the 
old freight station. It was a good five-mile 
walk, and the longest they had taken, but 
once on the trail, there seemed no other way 


251 


A Burglar Scare 

to go. They had not quite reached the sum- 
mit, these last two, when they heard the others 
calling back to them from above. 

Hurry up ! We’re waiting at the top,” 
came floating down in Gerald’s big voice. 

At the same time Babs’ quick eyes de- 
tected a sudden flirting of the bushes at her 
left as they sprang back into place. She said 
nothing about it, but, turning to Bob, cried : 

“ I guess we’d better run, — they’re waiting 
for us.” 

With leaps and bounds they hurried up 
the trail, until they were almost in sight of 
the others. Suddenly Babs stopped. 

Bejabbers, my comb bounced out. I re- 
member just where I heard it fall. You go 
on. Bob, and I’ll catch up with you at the top. 
Tell them I’m coming.” 

Before he could protest, she had sped down 
the path again and when out of sight of his 
eyes, she suddenly turned off the path into 
the underbrush. Creeping like a snake 
through the tangles she came in a moment’s 
time within a stone’s throw of the place where 
she had seen the bushes move. 

Huddling tight against a tree, her dark 


252 Babs at Birchwood 

green coat and hat blurring into the bushes, 
she held her breath and waited. In a second 
her peering eyes saw the bushes move 
again, and out stepped a man into the path- 
way. 

“ They’ve gone,” he said in a loud whisper, 
then he turned back and pulled the bushes 
apart. Babs saw, cleverly concealed behind 
them, and built into the hollow of a big rock, a 
tiny hut. Her swift glimpse revealed another 
man, lying full length on the floor. 

Come on,” the first one said, kicking him. 
“ They’ll go down the path to the village. 
We can cut around below here,” — his arm 
made a sweep to the left of the path, and 
meet ’em half-way down. That light-haired 
one had a watch on that — gee ! ” 

The other slowly sat up. 

All right, only I don’t hanker for this day- 
time business. And mind you — no harm 
done, now.” 

The first man laughed disagreeably. 

No, just a scare. I’d like to catch that 
red-haired one, though. She’s a little too 
good. She nearly saw me.” 

Babs held her breath as they came into view 


253 


A Burglar Scare 

and then dropped down the hillside within 
twenty-five feet of her. As soon as she could 
no longer hear their footsteps she flew like a 
bird up the path again. Bob had started down 
for her. 

What is it ? he asked, startled at her 
pale face and big eyes. 

She paused long enough to regain her com- 
posure, then she put her hand on his arm. 

Bob, you must help me. Those men — I 
just saw them— are cutting around below and 
are going to meet us on the trail half-way 
down. They want our watches and rings. I 
know a short cut home down the right of this 
trail, that the Writer Man showed me once, 
and we must go that way. But donT let^s tell 
them yet, — Clara may get scared, and spoil 
everything. Make them all come with me, 
and if we^re quick you boys can get the police 
and go back up for them again. 

Bob nodded. 

When they reached the top, he said : 

** Come on, folks, Babs will lead us home. 
She knows another way.^^ 

“ Oh, no ! It^s all rough, Clara demurred, 
as Babs plunged into the underbrush. 


254 


Babs at Birchwood 


“ That^s no place to take a girl, Bob/' said 
Gerald promptly. 

Bob went swiftly up to Gerald, and his gray 
eyes met the brown ones steadily. 

“ Come on," he said in a low voice. “ This 
is best, I tell you." 

So it was that Babs, her cheeks flushed as 
she led the way, followed the faint marks she 
had made one day on a lonely tramp. A 
bent twig here, a gash there, a fluttering 
j)iece of string, — reassured her so that she paid 
no attention to the complaints of the others, 
who were getting pretty badly scratched. 

In about twenty minutes they were out in a 
country lane that ran behind a big private 
residence. 

Now," sighed Babs, I'll tell you why I 
did that." 

Excitement ran high when they knew what 
they had escaped. Clara clutched her watch 
and turned pale. 

It's worth five hundred dollars," she 
whispered, as she tried to shine her muddy 
tan pumps against her stockings. 

You shouldn’t have worn it," said Bob, 
with the stern practicality that was character- 


255 


A Burglar Scare 

istic of him. Here you had on low shoes 
and a thin dress, and jewels — hunting bur- 
glars. Why didn't you wear something sensi- 
ble ? " 

He glanced at Babs, who in neat high boots, 
sturdy skirt and middy, with her hair caught 
under a tight cap, looked as trim as when she 
had started. Babs always looked trim in out- 
door clothes. 

Come on, boys," interrupted Gerald, 
“ we'll get the police and go meet them. Do 
you girls mind going the rest of the way 
alone ? " 

Surely not," Babs said hastily. “ Why 
don't you go in here and telephone for men, 
and we'll start anybody else we see on the 
way." 

About sunset Bob and Gerald dropped in 
at Marjory's. The girls saw them coming, and 
flew to meet them, eager for news. 

“ Did you get 'em ? " Marjory called out. 

Bob shook his head. Gerald sank down on 
the steps wearily. Both boys were muddy 
and wet and hungry. 

''No, they must have caught on," Bob an- 
swered. " We found the hut, Babs, but they'd 


256 Babs at Birchwood 

moved. We scoured the woods on that hill, 
but no use. Gosh, I'm tired." 

And you are on guard to-night, too, aren't 
you ? " asked Babs. 

He nodded. 

“ That's a shame." 

Uncle Dick and Aunt Madge came out just 
then, and finding that Bob was to guard from 
ten until two, at the Maples, their next door 
neighbors, the Birches, their own place, and 
the two big houses across the street, they in- 
sisted he come in and get his supper there, 
instead of walking all the way across town to 
his own home. 

Babs and Marjory kept Bob company that 
night on his beat until ten o'clock — a half 
hour later than their usual bedtime. And 
even when she was in bed, Babs was too tired 
and excited to go to sleep. Her mind kept 
traveling from the ugly face of the man she 
had seen that afternoon to the slim boyish 
figure of Bob, keeping guard so steadfastly out 
in the still night. She heard the clock strike 
twelve before she dropped off into a troubled 
sleep. 

She woke with a sudden start, and found 


257 


A Burglar Scare 

herself upright in bed. Some dream she 
could not exactly recall was fresh in her 
mind, and she was suddenly afraid. Quietly 
she tiptoed to the window. A young moon 
shining high up in the trees cast a faint light 
on the quiet world without. As she watched 
and listened, her breath came slower, and her 
heart ceased beating so loud. She could hear 
Bob^s regular footsteps on the roadway, and 
she could dimly make out his figure. 

She turned to look at the clock. It was 
only a little after one. Strangely, all sleep 
was driven from her eyes, and a swift resolu- 
tion came to her. Dressing in haste, she crept 
down the wide stairs, shoes in hand, to join 
Bob in his solitary vigil. 

On the landing she paused, wide-eyed. For 
below her, as she looked down through the 
wide doorway of the dining-room, there was 
burning a little light. It wavered here and 
there and she knew it was an electric flash- 
light. With her heart pounding, she slipped 
back into her room and found her gun ; then 
she tiptoed again into the hall and stole like 
a shadow down the thick-carpeted stairs. 

At the doorway, she paused and peered 


258 Babs at Birchwood 

carefully in. There was only one man. She 
could see his big figure leaning over the buffet, 
and he was stuffing silver quickly and quietly 
into a black bag he carried. The tiny clink 
of the silver and the man's heavy breathing 
were the only noises. Babs worked her way 
carefully to the electric light button. As she 
pushed it, and the room was fiooded with 
light, she threw her gun to her shoulder and 
aimed at the surprised burglar, who had 
whirled to face her, grabbing for his pistol. 

“ Never mind getting it," she said softly, 
and his hand stayed resting on it as it lay on 
the top of the buffet. I've got you covered, 
you see, and you'd only get hurt. And drop 
that bag, too, please." 

For a second he was too amazed to move. 
Then the sight of this slip of a golden-haired 
girl threatening to shoot him, in the politest 
and most apologetic of tones, made him 
chuckle. He turned back to his work. 

“ I don't mind your company at all, little 
girl," he said, keeping his eye on her, never- 
theless, in the mirror. And Babs knew his 
voice as the second man who had reluctantly 
agreed to the hold-up in the afternoon. As 


A Burglar Scare 259 

he talked he continued stuffing the beautiful 
silver in his bag. 

Maybe you think I can’t shoot,” Babs said 
still softly, but as he reached up for two won- 
derful old candlesticks that Babs knew were 
heirlooms and invaluable, her voice suddenly 
rang sharp. 

“ I’ll give you just three. One ! Two I ” 

At the change in her voice, he turned, a 
shade alarmed. Then he decided to call her 
bluff, and in the next second he reached for 
his pistol. In a flash there was a report, and 
his arm dropped helpless by his side. 

Babs smiled, but she still covered him with 
her gun. His amazement turned to terror and 
swift planning as he heard rapid footsteps 
overhead, and Bob’s signal for help — two 
shots, — outside. 

You might as well stay and get acquainted 
with the family,” Babs remarked coolly, as 
Uncle Dick rushed in, followed by Aunt 
Madge, Marjory, the butler, and Bob, who 
had banged at the front door until Marie had 
heard him. 

“ Why, Barbara I Child I ” Uncle Dick 
stood aghast at the stiff little figure, who still 


26 o 


Babs at Birchwood 


aimed at the burglar. “ Are you hurt ? What 
does this mean ? ’’ 

“ It means he's shot in the arm, and scared 
to death. It means, too, that if you don't 
hurry up and get his gun and tie him up, I'll 
faint, and he'll get away. I — don't mind — 
shooting bears — a bit — but I don't like it — 
one little speck — to shoot — burglars." 

And she fell like a log at Aunt Madge's 
feet. 


CHAPTER XVII 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 

“ Hustle up, Babs,^^ Marjory called. IPs 
after mail time.'' 

“ Just a minute ; have to sew on a button," 
Babs replied, and Marjory, laughing at the 
reform in Barbara's habits, sat down on the 
porch to wait. 

“ Never mind, dearie," Aunt Madge said, 
coming into Barbara’s room. ** Marie will do 
it." 

But I want to wear it now," Babs an- 
swered, holding up a light blue silk coat. 
" And having turned over a new leaf, I might 
as well keep it turned." 

She smiled happily up at her aunt. They 
had had a sweet, frank talk after Barbara's 
hike in the woods, and it had resulted in 
Barbara's somehow strangely feeling that she 
was conferring the favor by accepting the 
gifts the Kennedys took such pleasure in 
giving her. Nevertheless she had made up 
261 


262 


Babs at Birchwood 


her mind to show her appreciation by taking 
better care of her clothes, and with her usual 
persistence, she was succeeding in her resolu- 
tion. 

'' It's the least I can do," she said, smiling 
as she bit off the thread. You give me so 
much — 1 can at least take care of what you 
give me. Besides, it's finally being driven 
into my head that a neat personal appearance 
is the mark of a lady." 

Her aunt nodded and patted Barbara's head 
as she went swiftly by to join Marjory down- 
stairs on her way to the post-office. When 
their turn in line was reached Barbara found 
a letter for herself from home, and she opened 
it as soon as they were on the road again, 
while Marjory began a story in a magazine. 
Suddenly a gasp from Babs interrupted her. 

For goodness’ sake I " Babs said. And 
then she stood stock-still. 

‘'What is it?" asked Marjory, without 
looking up. 

But Babs did not reply. She read on 
through the letter, her e3^es widening in sur- 
prise, her color coming and going, her breath 
shortening. She read it twice and then 


Good News and Bad 263 

hastily in parts a third time. At last she 
seized Marjory’s arm. 

“ My dear I Such news I ” 

Her eyes were shining, her cheeks brightly 
flushed. 

“ Good or bad ? Looks good.” 

Oh, it’s both ! Oh, I don’t know whether 
to be glad or sorry. I’m all in a whirl. Sit 
down here on this rock. I can’t walk.” 

Marjory laughed. Babs was so Bahsy, she 
thought. There was no one quite like her. 
She followed her cousin to the rock and they 
sat in the shade while Babs told her news. 

Well,” she drew a deep breath, Dad has 
sold our farm.” 

Marjory whirled and stared at Babs. Just 
as she started to speak Babs’ eyes filled sud- 
denly with tears and she blurted out the rest 
of her news in her own incoherent way. 

” Oh, Marje, it’s so I can go to college, — 
they did it for that, I know they did. With- 
out a word to me — or anything, — they just up 
and sold it, all of a sudden. And Dad’s been 
hurt. Maybe that’s part of the reason, too. 
Mother said so, but it doesn’t seem possible. 
He broke his leg and hurt his head in a 


264 Babs at Birchwood 

tumble off a log when they were send- 
ing them down-stream this spring. They 
wouldn't let me know until he got well, but 
he's been awfully ill." 

She paused and her hands gripped. 

" Aren't they the dearest old sillies? They 
were sure I'd come flying home if I knew 
Dad was so hurt, and Mother all alone to take 
care of him — and a man hanging around to 
buy the house right off of their heads. I’ll 
bet I'd have sent him scooting I What do I 
care about college, anyway ? " 

Marjory leaned over and picked up the 
letter. 

" Do you mind ? I can't follow your gib- 
berish." 

Babs laughed a little hysterically. 

Yes, read it. Only I'm going to talk just 
the same. I've got to. They must have 
made a lot of money. How many thousand, 
did Mother say ? Well, never mind, it doesn't 
matter. Only — Marje I To think it's sold ! 
The house and stables and cows and pigs and 
everything ! Oh, and my dear little room 
that I flxed over so cute, and yours — and the 
living-room " 


Good News and Bad 265 

Suddenly the tears conquered and Babs 
sobbed heart-brokenly with her head on Mar- 
jory^s lap. Marjory dropped the letter and 
with her arms about her cousin comforted her 
as best she could. 

“ Why, no, it isn^t your fault at all,^^ she 
corrected Babs who was blaming it all on her- 
self ril tell you a secret, dear. When 
Aunt Kitty was here at Christmas time she 
told Mother they were seriously thinking of 
selling. She was getting tired of the loneli- 
ness — of the hard work ; and the glimpse she 
had of old friends and New York, and some 
modern luxuries, just made her homesick for 
a little house that was new and easy to take 
care of 

Really ? ” Babs lifted her tumbled head. 

Yes, really. Only we weren^t to say any- 
thing because they didn’t dream they could 
sell it so quickly. They did want you to go 
to college, too, and the farm was just eating 
up the money.” 

I know. Lately it hasn’t paid well. I 
kept accounts, you know, last year. Men 
were asking so much more for work, and 
freight and express had gone up so, and a big 


266 


Babs at Birchwood 


lawsuit we had with a pulp and paper con- 
cern, well — we lost lots of money on that.” 

SOf you see, you're not to take the blame 
at all/' 

Babs sighed and sat up. 

“ It's the queerest feeling — so kind of lost 
like, — not to have a home. I'll never see it 
again, probably. Mother says they're packing 
now, and will be down in a month, — the mid- 
dle of June. Where will they go? She said 
to ask you that.'' 

“ And I've promised not to tell. It's 
Molly's and Aunt Jule's secret. You must 
go in and see them to find out.'' 

“Oh, Marjory, please. No fair. I've been 
kept in the dark long enough.'' 

“ Sorry, but I promised. You can find out 
to-morrow ; it's Saturday.'' 

The two girls picked up the scattered mail 
and started on their way again. 

“ So Aunt Madge knows all about it. 
You've all known, — 'cept me. Did you know 
Dad was ill ? '' 

Marjory nodded. 

“We got word the day you were lost, and 
we didn't dare tell you. Besides, they asked 


Good News and Bad 267 

us not to. That^s the real reason that made 
them take this offer so soon. Your daddy, 
— they were pretty scared about him.’^ 

Babs^ face paled. 

“ It seems awful that I shouldn’t have 
known.” 

“ But he’s been doing so nicely, and is way 
out of danger now, so they wanted to wait 
until it was all finished up before they told 
you. But, Babs, aren’t you glad you’re going 
to college after all ? ” 

Babs drew a long breath. 

Of course I am. Oh, I am. But I don’t 
realize it yet, don’t you see? It’s losing home 
that sticks in my mind most, and Dad’s being 
sick. By and by I’ll be glad, but now — I’ve 
got to get used to it.” 

They turned in at the gate, and when Babs 
caught sight of her auntie she flew to her arms 
and stayed close while Mrs. Kennedy patted 
her back to composure. 

‘*So we aren’t to lose you this June at all, 
you see. You’re to stay here, near us, and 
your mother and father will be here too. And 
next year you can go to school here again and 
after that ’V 


268 Babs at Birchwood 

“ College 1 

In a flash it burst upon Babs that the pull- 
ing up of old stakes meant the fun of a new 
camping ground, and for a minute her face 
was alight. 

“ Oh, I begin to see ! Of course Dad and 
Mother wouldn^t want to stay there alone, 
while I'm four years at college. It's really 
going to work out all right, isn't it ? " 

“ Of course it is," her aunt replied. 

“ But, Auntie, they're coming in about 
three weeks. Where are they going to stay ? 
Here?" 

“ For a while," her aunt smiled. Don't 
coax, please. Molly wanted so to have the 
fun of telling you that part." 

“ I must say I like the way every one but 
me knows the family affairs I " said Babs with 
her usual spirit. " Well, will you be so good 
as to tell me when I may see Molly ? " 

" To-morrow," said Marjory. I told you 
that." 

But Mrs. Kennedy's brow wrinkled. 

" I don't see how, dearie. The dressmaker 
is coming here all day to sew for both you 
and me. We really can't get away." 


Good News and Bad 269 

“ Well, couldn’t I go in alone ? ” 

“ You could, — only I told George nobody 
would want the car to-morrow, and I gave 
him the day off/' 

Babs' face fell, then brightened again. 

‘‘ Maybe the Writer Man would take me. 
He goes in to New York a lot. I’ll ask him”. 

That’s a good idea. Run down now, 
dearie, and then I’ll send word in by Mr. 
Kennedy in the morning that you’ll be there 
to spend the day with her.” 

So off Babs flew, and had the pleasure of 
telling at least one person of the great news 
she had received that afternoon. The Writer 
Man was surprised and delighted and listened 
in eager attention to Babs’ hopes and plans 
of the future. Of course, Babs had frequent 
spasms of homesickness, as she realized Moose 
Lake was no longer hers, and she flung her 
arms wide in a desire for the expanse of sea 
and sky she loved so, but the next moment 
came pelting the thoughts of another year 
with Marjory, another year near Molly, an- 
other year near New York and Donald and 
Allen, and then — four wonderful years at the 
place that had been but a dream until to-day. 


270 


Babs at Birchwood 


At last as the sun set, she stood under the 
apple trees saying good-night. 

“ Thank you so much for taking me in to 
New York to-morrow. Youhe making a 
special trip, I know, and Tm probably shoot- 
ing a new plot all to thunder, but — I really 
think you deserve to make some amends for 
not joining the hunt when I waslost.^’ 

“ I feel the same way,^^ he admitted. Will 
this act of mine reinstate me?’^ 

Babs nodded, and ran happily away up the 
hill. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A EOMANCE UNCOVERED 

The Writer Man smiled down at his happy 
companion. Babs, in spotless white, from her 
canvas ties to her little sport hat, looked a 
sweet picture. She had grown rapidly this 
past year and some of the stockiness was 
lengthening into more graceful lines. Her 
hair was still hanging down her back, though 
her skirts were dropped several inches. A 
few weeks more would see her fifteen years 
old, and she was so hoping her mother and 
father would be down in time for a small 
celebration. 

** Isn't it queer ? " she was saying as she 
leaned back against the seat. ** How one day 
the world can be all blue and gold and chirpy? 
And the next it can be all drabby. For a 
while there, after the dance, when I thought 
I was a charity relative, I thought the drabbi- 
ness would never wear off, but now " — she 
271 


272 


Babs at Birchwood 


touched the little sunshine heart pin that 
her mother had sent her — now I feel as 
though I would never cry again.” 

‘‘ Good,” said her friend heartily. That^s 
the way to feel.” 

** Did you go to college?” asked Babs sud- 
denly, looking up at him. 

No,” he shook his head. I was too busy 
singing and saving money. It was all I could 
do to get a plain high school education.” 

“ And yet you write stories.” 

** Vwe done some studying since I began my 
writing,” he told her. Lots of it, and hard 
reading, too. ' Oh, I’ve worked in my time.” 

I haven’t.” 

He looked down at her. 

‘'No, I believe you haven’t. Life has 
yielded its gifts to you easily, so far. But 
perhaps your time is coming. Are you afraid 
of work ? ” 

Babs rested her chin on her hand, and 
stared at the toe of her shoe. 

“ No, I don’t think I am,” she said slowly. 
“ I really don’t know a solitary thing I’m 
afraid of, — except hurting people’s feelings. 
It’s so easy to do that.” 


A Romance Uncovered 


273 


** You're right. On the other hand, peo- 
ple's feelings are often hurt too easily. You 
will find that out at college." 

“ Tell me some more things I'll find out," 
Babs begged. 

“ Not too many," he returned. “ I believe 
in letting folks find out for themselves. It 
goes deeper and means more. Besides, it's 
better fun for you. But you'll get along 
swimmingly, I know, at college. You have 
the team spirit." 

Have I ? How should you know ? I've 
never played on a team — or anything." 

‘‘Some things stick out on people — like 
noses. You can't help seeing them." 

Babs clasped her hand over her snubby 
nose that was sprinkled over with tiny 
freckles. 

“ Meany," she cried. “ Now you've spoiled 
a nice serious conversation." 

“ Well, let's start another," he said cheer- 
fully. “ By the way, your greasy grind ap- 
pearance seems to have disappeared." 

• “Thank you, sir. I've been struggling 
hard. I don't expect it's gone for keeps, but 
at least I'm clean to start to-day with." 


274 Babs at Birchwood 

“ Do you expect to see your friends Donald 
and Allen to-day ? he asked. 

Why, I don't know. I never thought 
about it. Why ? " 

“ Because I think they'd like to see you," 
he returned, enigmatically. 

“Well, I'd like to see them," she said 
simply. “ Guess I'll call them up, — only 
Aunt Jule hasn't a 'phone." 

“Hasn't she? I'll be glad to meet this 
famous Aunt Jule I've heard so much about. 
I'm rather partial to her name." 

“ Oh, you'll love her. I'm sure," Babs cried. 
“ We all spell it J-e-w-e-l, lately, she's such a 
wonder. She's a regular mother to Molly, — 
and yet she seems like more of a sister, she's 
so young looking and acting." 

They entered the subway that was to take 
them up to Miss Snow's apartment, and in the 
roar of it they fell silent. Babs, who re- 
membered the station, plucked his sleeve at 
last, and they followed the crowd out and up 
to the street level. 

“Now, which way?" he asked, as they 
stood on the sidewalk. “ Do you know ? " 

She nodded and started off. 


A Romance Uncovered 275 

‘‘Oh, I^m learning the trails around New 
York quite well,'’ she said brightly. It’s 
that red brick building two blocks ahead 
of us.” 

He looked where she pointed. 

“ I see,” he said slowly. 

Babs danced along by his side, chattering 
as fast as the thoughts tumbled through her 
head. He listened with an attentive smile on 
his lips, but a far-away puzzled expression in 
his eyes that Babs did not notice. 

“ Isn’t it silly to think everybody knew all 
my family plans except me ? Here I have to 
come all the way in to New York to find out 
from no relatives at all where Mother and 
Dad are going to spend the summer. I think 
it’s ridiculous. Phew! It’s hot, isn’t it? 
Well, here we are.” 

In the cool of the brick building she ran 
ahead of him toward the iron stairs. 

No elevator,” she called to him softly, 
“ but it’s up only two flights.” 

He made no answer, but followed her, with 
two or three tiny drops of perspiration stand- 
ing on the bridge of his lean white nose. 

“ You never told me Aunt Jule’s last name,” 


276 Babs at Birchwood 

he said as they neared the top. What am I 
to call her ? Miss ? 

, “Why not call her Aunt Jewel?” said 
Babs gaily. “ Everybody does. Oh, hello, 
Molly I ” 

The door flew open and Babs dashed in and 
seized Molly's hands. 

“ Tell me this instant Oh, excuse me. 

Mr. Writer Man, this is Molly. My Molly, 
you know, that's as good as a sister to me.” 

By this time they were in the tiny hall, 
with the door shut behind them. Aunt Jule 
appeared from the living-room, and, unac- 
customed to the darker hall, made her way 
forward to greet them. Babs ran to give her 
a hug and kiss. 

“ Hello, Aunt Jule,” she cried, “ my Writer 
Man brought me in ” 

And then she stopped dead. 

For the Writer Man had waited for no in- 
troduction. In two long steps he was before 
Aunt Jule, his hands out, his voice throbbing 
as he said : 

“ My dear little girl. Have I found you at 
last?” 

Babs took a swift look, but the glorified ex- 


A Romance Uncovered 277 

pression of Aunt Jule's face took her breath 
away. Quickly Babs ducked under the 
Writer Man’s outstretched arms, seized the 
amazed Molly and thrust her hurriedly into 
her bedroom, while she whirled and shut and 
locked the door, then leaned against it pant- 
ing. 

“ Stop your ears, Molly I Stop ’em quick I 
That’s a real live romance out there, and we 
haven’t any right to hear it,” she whispered. 
Then she seized Molly by the shoulders and 
shook her hard. 

“ Oh, how dumb I am I How dumb I am I 
Why didn’t I guess it was he? How could it 
help but be he? He was just made for her. 
And there wasn’t a telephone, and I never 
thought to tell him her last name, or to tell 
her his, — we always called him the Writer 
Man, you know,— and he never sang or any- 
thing.” 

Molly was staring wide-eyed at Babs. 

It's him — her him,” she murmured un- 
intelligibly. ** Oh, my ! Did you see his 
face?” 

No, but I saw hers,” Babs said in an awed 
tone. Honest, I’m all shaky with this love 


278 Babs at Birchwood 

business going on under my nose. Let’s sit 
down.” 

So they curled up on Molly’s bed to talk it 
over. They had plenty of time, for the couple 
outside seemed to have forgotten that any one 
existed outside of themselves, and the low 
murmur of voices from the living-room went 
on and on, as fast as Babs’ excited stage 
whisper. 

“ Oh, it’s wicked to think that they haven’t 
been together this last year. Still, I suppose 
we’d better be thankful they’re found now.” 
And Babs sighed contentedly as she stretched 
out on Molly’s bed. 

Molly sat clasping her knees with her 
hands. 

It’s wonderful,” she said slowly, ^‘how 
God has two people out of all the world find 
each other and love each other. I’m so glad 
Aunt Jule is to be married at last. That ex- 
plains all sorts of things. Why she’s kept 
young — hope made her, I suppose, — and why 
she’s kept single, and why she’s kept 
happy ” 

Well, it just goes to show me how ac- 
cidentally big things can happen. Here ail 


A Romance Uncovered 279 

this winter I’ve talked Aunt Jule, — Aunt 
Jule to him, but I’ve never said where she 
lived or what her last name was, or anything 
that might have given him a clue.” 

They both sat silent a minute. 

Well, it’s up to me to hunt a new home,” 
said Molly at last. 

Babs looked at her. 

Why — I — don’t know ” 

Well, I do,” said Molly swiftly. I know 
those two want to be alone, and they ought 
to be alone, free to love and talk and play 
without thinking of anybody else, or with 
anybody else to see and hear. Oh, I can’t say 
it the way I want to — only I feel it. Besides, 
there’s no room in his weeny-wee cottage, is 
there?” 

No,” said Babs slowly. That’s right, 
there isn’t. But say, Molly, your home is 
with us, you know, if you leave them.” Then 
she sat up briskly. “ And that reminds me, 
what I came in for is this. Just where is my 
family going to camp out this summer?” 

They wrote you at last ! ” Molly cried. 

Oh, I’ve been dying to tell you.” 

“ Yes, Mother finally informed me yester- 


28 o 


Babs at Birchwood 


day. And she said to ask you where we were 
all going this summer. Now hurry up.'' 

Well, the plan was this. Whether this 
romance will change it or not, I don’t know. 
Aunt Jule has a small bungalow down on an 
island near Babylon, Long Island. Aunt Jule 
was one of the pioneers there. It’s a dear 
place, I imagine, from what she says, and 
your mother and father were going to rent it 
for the summer, and Aunt Jule and I were go- 
ing to visit you when she gets her vacation in 
August.” 

Babs clapped her hands. 

Sounds — simply too utterly too-too. Is 
it the seashore? ” 

It’s in the bay, but it’s only a short paddle 
across to Oak Beach, which is a narrow strip 
of land that keeps the ocean from your shore.” 

And swimming?” 

All you like.” 

And I s’pose Marjory and Aunt Madge 
could visit us some.” 

'' Surely, we were just going to take turns. 
The cottage is awfully teeny.” 

Babs sat up and seized Molly’s hands. 

” Oh, Molly I ” she cried. Isn’t this a 


A Romance Uncovered 281 

good old world ? Here I have New York and 
college and seashore presented to me all in a 
year, and I never dreamed I'd see any of 'em." 

They sat there talking and planning for 
some little time more, and still the voices 
outside kept up their steady low murmur. 
Finally Babs giggled. 

" Say 1 I want to go out. I'm smothering 
in here. Do w^e dare ? " 

We might as well. They won't think of 
us, unless we remind them." 

“ How do you know so much about this lov- 
ing business ? " asked Babs. 

To her surprise, the color flooded Molly's 
face, and she turned to fumble with her hair 
in the mirror as she answered hastily : 

" Oh, I've read things." 

Babs was too astounded to do anything for 
a moment. Then she caught Molly's skirt 
and yanked her around to face her. 

" Molly, what do you mean ? Blushing 
like that ? " she demanded. 

Molly twisted back to the mirror again. 

" Nothing — truly. I don't know what 
made me." 

Babs let her go, but into her eyes came a 


282 


Babs at Birchwood 


wondering expression. That blush of Molly^s 
and her silence put her miles away. Of a 
sudden, Babs realized that Molly was prac- 
tically a young lady. She was seventeen, — 
and she caught her breath, — was there a 
romance lurking around Molly too ? Who 
could it be ? 

But Molly had turned to the door to open 
it. Just as she did so, they were startled to 
hear a man's beautiful tenor voice filling the 
tiny apartment, as he sang a simple little song 
of love. Softly he sang it, but at once they 
knew his voice was a treasure to be prized. 
When he had finished, both girls were in the 
hall and tiptoeing to the living-room. Babs 
stood for a moment at the doorway, then she 
said : 

“ Oh, please, Mr. Writer Man. That was 
beautiful. Won't you do it again ? And 
mayn't we come in ? " 

There was a joyful laugh from both. Aunt 
Jule's was a little trembly, and the Writer 
Man's was big and hearty. He jumped to 
meet them as they came in and with a hand 
on the shoulder of Babs, the other arm close 
around Aunt Jule, he spoke. 


A Romance Uncovered 283 

Barbara, we thank you. You did it, you 
know, consciously or not. Isn't it terrible to 
think that just because I didn't remember her 
right address I couldn't find her long ago? 
Never mind — we promptly invite you both to 
our wedding this afternoon." 

Oh— John I " Aunt Jule gasped. 

“ Why not ? What's there to wait for ? " 

“ Oh, — everything ! " she murmured, as con- 
fused as a girl, and Babs and Molly laughed 
delightedly at her discomfiture. 

^*John," said Babs. "So that's your 
name." ^ 

"John Lawrence," Aunt Jule ventured 
with a shy proudness. " Isn't it a nice 
name?" 

" Mrs. John Lawrence," said Molly, " sounds 
fine." 

" But really," he said, and Babs, looking at 
him, thought he must be a different man. 
The twisty curve in the down side of his 
mouth, that had always reminded her of 
Molly, had so suddenly quirked up. " Why 
not be married this afternoon ? Haven't we 
waited long enough ? " 

" Such haste is unseemly," she reproved. 


284 


Eabs at Birchwood 


'' Besides, I want Madge there — and Kitty — 
my two dearest and oldest friends. And — 
oh, John — let's have it as I have dreamed it 
all these years." 

His voice was tender with an exquisite 
tenderness as he answered : 

Why, my dear little girl, everything in 
the world from now on shall be as you have 
dreamed it — all these years. Come, tell me 
how that was." 

The girls started to slip away again, but 
Aunt Jule stopped them. 

“ No, wait and hear. You are to be in it, 
you know." 

They caught their breath, then sat down 
eagerly to listen. 

“ I want it outdoors, John," she said, lifting 
her eyes, in which the twinkle had softened 
to sweetness. On Madge’s beautiful lawn 
near the garden. I want the birds and the 
bees to be there. And all the flowers are to 
nod approval. And I want Marjory and 
Barbara, the children of my warmest friends, 
to be my bridesmaids, with Molly, who has 
grown so dear to me, for maid of honor." 

Molly’s eyes filled. 


A Romance Uncovered 285 

** If that isn’t like you,” she murmured, 
and Babs sat round-eyed in delight. 

“ If anything more new happens to me,” 
she said, I’ll just plain — 

They all laughed. 

“ You’ve never been in a wedding ? ” the 
Writer Man asked. 

‘‘ I’ve never seen one,” she answered. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE WEDDING 

The garden lay with the lazy hush of a 
warm June day over it. Great roses of deep 
red held their proud heads bravely in the 
warm air. Soft pink ones drooped shyly on 
their stems, while wee white ones peeped 
daringly from their curling green hoods. The 
tall hollyhocks appeared to be waiting in dig- 
nity and silence some moment of importance. 
Even the bees seemed to buzz more lowly than 
was their wont, as they flew carelessly from 
flower to flower. 

At last voices were heard and across the 
lawn, from the shade of the big trees, into the 
sunlight, then out of the sunlight into the 
quiet garden path that was covered over with 
trellis and climbing vine, came slowly a small 
group of people. They wandered happily 
along, stopping now to sniff at the honey- 
suckle, now to pat the lovely iris that rimmed 
286 


The TT zdding 287 

the walk ; at last they gathered in the big 
rustic summer-house that stood at the end of 
the path near the roses and hollyhock. 

“ Could a more perfect day be imagined ? 
said Aunt Madge in a soft voice as she glanced 
at the deep blue of the sky, dotted over with 
small feathery clouds of purest white. 

Could anything more ideal be imagined, 
anyway ? Mrs. Benson returned, with a swift 
smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder of her 
husband who, with the help of his cane, seated 
himself at once. A June wedding — out- 
doors — and all of us together again after all 
the years. It's too good to be true, as Babs 
says.” 

And it's so like Judy/' put in Mrs. Page, 
who had entered quietly from the rear, “ not 
to want a big audience. It seems a shame 
that there aren't more to see this pretty 
wedding than just us and our husbands and 
sons and daughters, — but more would spoil 
just what we're enjoying.” 

They ceased their talking as a violin, hidden 
from sight, began playing softly. For ten 
minutes the lovely strains floated out over the 
garden, in clear sweet music, and then just 


288 Babs at Birch- 

before it began the well’’ ’ own wedding 
march, the white-haired minister took his 
place at the door of the summer-house, facing 
the path, and waited with hands folded before 
him. 

Through the trees could be seen approach- 
ing the bridesmaids. Barbara and Marjory, 
with Marjory's dark curls in striking contrast 
to Barbara’s gleaming head. Both wore simple 
white dresses and carried beautiful shower 
bouquets of nodding pink roses. With still 
lifted faces and slow steps they came up the 
path, separated, and stood facing each other 
in the widened space at its end. 

Babs cast a quick glance at the Writer 
Man, who had quietly appeared before the 
minister, and stood waiting for his bride. The 
reverent worshiping look on his face, and the 
great love that shone in his eyes, struck awe 
into her soul, and startled her. Swiftly she 
dropped her eyes, while her heart started 
pounding. What was this thing that could 
make a man look so ? That could make you 
seem so close to heaven ? So shy, yet so 
sure? 

And then she raised her eyes again, and 


T’he W zdding 289 

looked at Molly coming down the path toward 
them ; Molly, sweet and dignified in pale 
pink, that seemed to flush her cheeks and set 
off* her gray eyes like stars ; Molly, with her 
arms piled high with roses ; Molly, whose face 
seemed to reflect the glory that hovered in 
the air. Was this really Molly — the old fa- 
miliar Molly? Or a new one who seemed 
some way to be emerging from the old one 
she used to know ? 

Was this all real, anyway ? This beautiful 
solemnity broken only by the soft tones of 
the violin ? This garden that seemed filled 
with romance ? These still people so dear to 
her, all suddenly set apart, as in a dream ? 
Babs looked at them all, theh catching Don- 
ald's steady eyes on her, she swiftly caught 
her breath, and turned once again to take her 
part in the ceremony that had nearly begun. 

Aunt Jule was coming down the path now, 
silent and sure, her eyes gladly meeting her 
lover's, her hand half out to touch his. She 
looked so young as she stood there, all in 
purest simplest white, her happy face lit with 
a radiance from within, her smile so wonder- 
fully tender. 


290 


Babs at Birchwood 


And then the music ceased and the minis- 
ter’s mellow voice began the words that mean 
so mucn. Babs listened, once again feeling as 
though it were all not quite real, and she 
were glimpsing part of heaven. How could 
any one be so sure — as sure as these two 
seemed ? How could they be sure enough to 
make the sacred promises they were asked to 
make ? 

Yet the Writer Man’s voice was deeply joy- 
ous and steady, and his hand was swift as he 
slipped the ring on his bride’s finger. And 
Aunt Jule’s answers sounded clear and sweet 
as she responded with her eyes never leaving 
her lover’s face. 

Was all Romance so stilly beautiful ? So 
solemn? So achingly sweet? Would it be 
so — could it be so with young people? Babs 
wondered. “ To love, honor and obey — to 

cherish ” she wished she could remember 

it all. 

And then the hush-ed-ness was broken, and 
there were sudden smiles that drove away 
stealthy tears, and kisses and happy voices. 
And Babs was suddenly in a whirl of gentle 
gaiety. She found herself clinging close to 


291 


"The W zdding 

Aunt Jule in a speechless emotion. Then she 
was wildly hugging Marjory and rejoicing 
that at last “ these blessed two were to- 
gether. Then the Writer Man had her by the 
shoulders, and half laughingly, half seriously, 
kissed her uptilted face. 

Why, Merry Sunshine,'’ he teased, I 
thought, one while there, you might be going 
to cry, you looked so dreadfully sober.” 

Babs caught her breath. 

Oh, Mr. Writer Man,” she said, “ you 
haven’t any idea how — how — scrambled I feel 

inside. I’m sure ” her laugh jiggled a 

bit. I’m sure I could never never get mar- 
ried. If I felt this way just being a brides- 
maid, what should I feel if I were a bride? ” 
A little later, in the summer-house, with 
John Lawrence and Aunt Jule in their centre, 
they ate delicious ice-cream and puffy white 
cake, and drank cool lemonade in which 
floated big red strawberries. And when Aunt 
Jule rose to cut the frosted cake, every one 
rose too, and with clinking glasses drank a 
toast to her. 

Oh, I’ve got the thimble ! ” Babs cried, as 
she crumbled her cake on her plate. She 


292 Babs at Birchwood 

held it up high. '' I told you so, Mr. Writer 
Man.^^ 

And here’s the ring ! ” Marjory brushed 
it off and slipped it over her finger. '' It just 
fits. Well, I shall have a wedding exactly 
like this one.” 

“ Exactly — except for the groom,” said 
Allen. “ You can’t have him, can she. Aunt 
Jule?” 

“ Only for best man,” said Aunt Jule, slip- 
ping her hand into his, and smiling into his 
eyes. 

“ What ho I ” Allen cried, hopping on his 
chair. “ I’m to be the Croesus of the crowd I ” 
And he waved the penny that had been in his 
piece of cake. 

“What's left?” Babs asked. “Any- 
thing?” 

“ Just the bachelor button — and I have it,” 
her father replied. 

“ Oh,” said Marjory, disgustedly. “ Now 
isn’t that a shame? I'd have believed the 
signs absolutely if you hadn't found that, 
but now ” 

“ You didn't believe Babs would be an old 
maid, did you? ” asked Donald. 


293 


T’he Wedding 

This is the nicest birthday I’ve ever had,” 
Babs announced. “ Did you people know it 
was my fifteenth to-day ? ” 

“ Why, that’s so,” Aunt Jule cried. I had 
forgotten. Shall we divide the honors of the 
party ? ” 

“ No indeed,” she answered. “ This is so 
plainly a wedding party that a mere birth- 
day hasn’t a ghost of a show.” 

And they chattered and laughed and teased 
the bride and groom until the sun sank in the 
west in a mass of soft thick clouds that had 
risen to meet it and nest it for the night. As 
the rosy glory spread over the paling sky, 
Aunt Jule and her husband turned at the top 
of the hill to wave farewell to their friends, 
and then, arm in arm, slowly made their way 
down to the weeny-wee cottage that stood 
nestled away among its apple trees waiting for 
them. 

” They didn’t want to go on a honeymoon,” 
Babs said to Donald, who stood by her side. 

Aunt Jule said she couldn’t get to her 
Dream-cottage quickly enough, and she 
wanted to begin right spang away, living 
there with him.” 


294 Babs at Birchwood 

‘‘ Don^t blame her,” he said briefly, for he 
had been told the whole romance, as well as 
the others. Let’s walk around the garden. 
You haven’t told me all the news about col- 
lege, and this summer, and everything.” 

“ Why, that’s so. We’ve been in such a 
whirl,” she said. You only know the skele- 
ton of it, don’t you ? ” 

And they wandered up and down the paths 
together, Babs with her face lifted to his as he 
walked silently along beside her, listening to 
her chatter on. They passed and repassed 
Marjory and Allen, and Allen always stopped 
for a word, or tossed a flower to her. At last 
as dusk settled slowly, Donald and Babs stood 
once again on the brow of the hill, looking 
down at the weeny-wee cottage where gleamed 
a soft light through the square-paned win- 
dows. For a moment they were silent, then 
Babs’ hushed voice spoke. 

“ Wasn’t it — beautiful, Don ? ” she asked 
softly. 

He nodded. 

“ It made me feel as though I should never 
dare ” — she hesitated, but the darkness urged 
her to confidences — never dare fool with 


The W zdding 295 

love, the way lots of girls do. It can be so 
sacred, and wonderful, if it’s kept as those 
two kept it, until the right two people meet.” 

“ You’ve got the idea, Barbara,” he said, 
and then there was silence again. 

Well,” she sighed, I hope it comes to 
me — like that — all gentle and sure and sweet. 
I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Donald made no answer, but Babs did not 
seem to notice. The peepers in the meadow 
across the field at their feet began their even- 
ing song ; a sleepy twitter and chirp was 
heard from the birds overhead ; darkness set- 
tled down, and for a moment they stood 
there, silent, listening to the evening noises. 

Babs breathed in the peace and quiet of it, 
and then all of a sudden she felt disturbed. 
The future looked so vague. She wondered 
what was in store for her in the big world, 
after college? Would she find the happiness 
that lay hidden away in the cottage at her 
feet? And if she didn’t — what would she 
find to fill her life? She gave herself a little 
shake. 

I’m growing up,” she thought to herself, 
and it scared her. The peepers sounded 


296 Babs at Birchwood 

louder, and as her eyes grew used to the dark- 
ness about her, the world seemed to stretch 
out before her in vast spaces. 

Swiftly she drew closer to Donald, and 
slipped her hand through his arm. He looked 
down surprised. 

‘‘ It could be — lonely — those noises,'’ she 
murmured. 

Why, you — little silly," he said, and she 
laughed suddenly. Everything was really all 
right in the world, as long as you were near 
people that cared, and she had so many. As 
they turned to go back to the house, she 
laughed again, for the queer disturbing feel- 
ings had gone as quickly as they had come, 

“ What's the matter with you, anyway ? " 
he asked, looking down at her. 

Nothing — nothing in the world," she re- 
plied. Except I'm fifteen." 


CHAPTER XX 


THE PICNIC AT SILVER LAKE 

** I TELL you what, Marje,” Babs said. 
** Let's have a real picnic in the woods, — a 
real camp-y one, I mean, — and show these 
folks how it ought to be done.^^ 

'‘And what fun it is,^* Marjory supple- 
mented. “ Say, that would be great. Now 
let’s see — where’ll we go ? And who ? ” 

“ Oh, the usual crowd, of course. Bob and 
Gerald, you and Clara, Gladys, Rosalie and 
me.” 

" How about Donald and Allen ? ” Marjory 
asked. 

" It would be fun to have them, — and 
Molly.” 

Mrs. Kennedy was enthusiastic over the 
picnic, and after many " confabs,” as Babs 
termed them, they at last decided to pile into 
the Kennedys' and Pages’ cars and take the 
forty mile drive to a beautiful little spot 
known as Silver Lake. Every one was in- 
structed to bring bathing suits, and Babs and 
297 


298 Babs at Birchwood 

Marjory attended to the grub and the rest 
of the outfitting. 

Saturday dawned clear and warm, with a 
refreshing south breeze, and at nine-thirty the 
Pages’ big car drew up at the Kennedy ve- 
randa where the five girls were dancing ex- 
citedly. In a few minutes they were all 
stowed away comfortably in the two ma- 
chines. Gladys, Molly, Mrs. Page, Donald, 
Bob and Rosalie in one, with Gerald, Allen, 
6lara, Marjory, Babs and Mrs. Kennedy in 
the other. 

“ Of course,” Babs said, to have this a real 
woods picnic, we should be hiking over the 
roads with our rucksacks on our backs and 
huge shoes on our feet, and bloomers on.” 
She glanced smilingly at Clara’s high-heeled 
white canvas pumps, and then winked at 
Marjory as she referred to bloomers. 

Oh, you can’t make me mad now,” Mar- 
jory replied in answer to the wink. I don’t 
mind wearing bloomers a bit, any more.” 

Clara turned a surprised look on Marjory. 
Bloomers ? ” she queried. When did 
you ever wear them ? ” 

All last summer,” Marjory returned im- 


TChe Picnic at Silver Lake 299 

perturbably. ^'Up at Babs' home. I had to 
Jearn to,” she confessed. “ But really — they're 
great for the woods.” 

Their drive took them along a beautiful 
boulevard that wound through some dozen 
towns and finally from it they branched off 
on to a country road right in the heart of the 
hills. As the going became rougher and 
wilder, and each turn brought them higher 
up the mountains and deeper into the cool, 
fragrant woods, Babs became less talkative 
and leaned back, breathing deeply. 

“ Oh, if this isn't beautiful,” she said softly. 
“Just look, people I Look at the way the 
sunshine sifts through those trees. Isn't that 
— delicious ? ” 

“ 'S great,” Allen agreed shortly, and he too 
sank into silence. 

“Say, what's the matter with you folks?” 
Gerald asked. “ Anybody'd think you'd 
never seen the country before.” 

Babs gave him a withering look. 

“ If you were really seeing it now,” she re- 
torted, “ you'd keep still too.” 

Up and down the cars plunged, — in and 
out, — around and back. And each fresh turn 


300 


Babs at Birchwood 


and dip revealed some swift glimpse of rolling 
hills or wavy meadows or abrupt woods. At 
last they crossed a lonely little railroad track, 
climbed over a faintly marked road that was 
strewn with bowlders, plunged down a descent 
slippery with pine needles, and — behold I Be- 
fore them lay a deep blue lake glimmering in 
the sunlight. 

There were cries and shouts of delight, for 
they had come upon this little spot so sud- 
denly, and it was new to all of them except 
Mrs. Kennedy. 

‘‘ I think we'll have this place almost to 
ourselves," she observed. The entrance is 
so unnoticeable. No, go on. Parks," she 
spoke to the Pages' chauffeur. “This road 
winds right around to the head of the lake. 
There's a beach there, and we'll picnic among 
the rocks." 

Another five minutes of careful driving 
along the lake edge where the road almost 
spilled itself into the water in some of its con- 
tortions,— and they had reached the head of 
the lake, which they found deserted. Here 
there was a tiny sandy beach, white and 
smooth and good to look upon. On either 


T'he Picnic at Silver Lake 301 

side of it were big rocks and bowlders with a 
few scraggly trees growing up between them 
and behind the beach the road plunged away 
from the water into the darkness of the 
woods. 

“ Girls and boys I Bob announced as the 
two cars stopped. “ This is the place where 
we Boy Scouts come camping this summer.'^ 

“ Righto,” Gerald agreed. We'll tell the 
boss about it instanter.” 

Oh, this is great I ” Babs cried. ** All 
out ! Come on, Allen, we'll start the fire. 
Here's a good spot, don't you think ? '' 

“I do think now and then,'' he replied. 

But say I I thought this picnic was to 
initiate greenhorns? How about us being 
the boss mechanics and Clara and Gerald, for 
instance, being chief wood gatherers ? '' 

All right,'' Gerald agreed. Come on, 
Clara.'' 

And Clara, with a rueful glance at her im- 
maculate white skirt and dainty shoes, fol- 
lowed him into the woods and stood while he 
filled her arm with sticks. 

“ Let me start the fire,” Gladys begged of 
Babs. I remember how you did it when 


302 Babs at Birchwood 

we were snow-shoeing and Clara sprained her 
ankle/^ 

To every one’s surprise Gladys did start the 
fire, in true Indian fashion, by rubbing two 
sticks together. 

Why, Glad I ” Marjory cried, amazed as she 
came up. “ How did you learn to do that ? ” 

Gladys flushed, proud and delighted. I 
saw Babs do it,” she replied briefly, “ so I 
practiced.” 

By the time they had swung the coffee-pot 
over the flame and cut sticks for each person 
to fry bacon on, it was noon and the cries for 
food were becoming insistent. 

“ What have you got for us to eat, Marje ? ” 
Bob poked his nose inquisitively over her 
shoulder and looked into the box she held. 

Get out,” she ordered, and when he poked 
it over the other side she pinched it. 

“ Now be good. You can’t have anything 
till Babs says so. And then you cSn’t unless 
I say so.” 

“ Babs, have mercy I We’re starving.” 

Bob's look was so abject that Barbara 
laughed. 

Here, then. Wrap a piece of bacon 


T’he Picnic at Silver Lake 303 

around this stick and hold it over the fire. 
Aunt Jule — there she is, cutting the bread. 
When you've fried your bacon you can make 
a sandwich. Butter? I should just guess 
not I Not with perfectly good bacon grease, 
Clara. Pour the coffee, Allen. Tin cups, of 
course. Gladys has them." 

— i* Gladys would make a regular camper," 
Allen observed. Anybody can see that." 

** But bacon and bread and coffee — is that 
all ? " Gerald’s tone was injured. 

** Patience, little boy," Marjory laughed. 
“See this yellow stuff? Well, we hunted all 
over town for this, and finally got it at Aber- 
crombie’s. It’s egg. Now watch. In a few 
minutes this powder will be transformed into 
the fiuffiest omelette you ever saw. And I 
have absolutely nothing up my sleeves." 

“ And there’s also corn to be roasted," Babs 
put in. “ There’s butter for that, Clara, cheer 
up. My ! What a sight you are I " 

Babs stopped in amazement and stared 
at the erstwhile neat Clara. One heel had 
broken off, her topknot had slipped to one 
side, her skirt was streaked with dirt and her 
blouse was torn. 


304 


Eabs at Birchwood 


“ I am, and I can^t help it and I’m not 
going to care,” Clara asserted stoutly. “ Next 
time I’ll wear bloomers under my skirt and 
slip it off the way you and Marje did.” 

Wasn’t I the gumpy not to think to tell 
you all ? ” Marjory scolded herself. There, 
how are those eggs? Aren’t they scrump- 
tious ? ” 

“ Well, I declare I ” Rosalie marveled. 

They look like the real thing.” 

“ Taste ’em.” 

One by one, Donald and Allen, Marjory 
and Babs revealed the wonders and fun of a 
real camp picnic. The thermos bottles and 
made-up sandwiches had been abandoned for 
the day, and they all lunched sumptuously 
off the bacon and eggs, coffee and corn, fruit 
and sweet chocolate, and some clear cold 
water from the lake. 

After lunch Babs and Allen engineered the 
erecting of two small tents. One Allen had 
brought with him, and the other Marjory had 
brought. They were swung between two 
trees, and by the time they were up securely 
and staked out at the sides, every one felt hot 
and dirty and ready enough for a swim. By 


The Picnic at Silver Lake 305 

twos and threes they disappeared into the 
tents and emerged in a few minutes in their 
bathing suits. 

‘‘ Hurray I cried Allen as he ran pelting 
into the water and splashed water all over 
Clara. ** Can you swim ? '' 

Not a bit, and I'd give anything to." 

Rosalie couldn't either, but to their sur- 
prise Gladys proved a steady little swimmer. 
Between her patient efforts to teach and 
Clara's fearless plunges, Clara soon learned to 
hold herself up in the water and to give two 
or three quick short strokes. Rosalie was 
less quick, for she was afraid, and finally she 
sent the willing Gerald and Allen from her. 

Go on and play ball with the others," she 
said. " I'll just sit here in the shallows and 
keep cool. I mustn't keep you from the fun." 

After the swim they settled themselves 
comfortably on the cushions brought from the 
car and in the sunset glow sang songs and 
played games. They had kept the fire going 
all the afternoon from lunch hour, so when it 
came time to cook their steaks and make 
cocoa from the milk powder that so amazed 
the " greenhorns," supper was a matter of a 


3 o 6 Babs at Birchwood 

few moments. While the boys were v/ashing 
dishes and taking down the tents the girls 
collected their belongings and stowed them 
away in the cars. 

Marjory finished ahead of the others and 
ran up to the top of the knoll that com- 
manded the best view of the sunset. Here 
the ground was level and well covered with 
thick grass. As she stood silent a sudden in- 
spiration came to her. 

“ Girls ! she called suddenly. Fve an 
idea ! ” 

“ Hold on to it then/’ Allen said quickly. 
“ You don’t get them often.” 

Maijory stuck out her tongue and waved 
* him away. When the girls had gathered 
around her she announced calmly : 

I think we girls might just as well come 
here camping this summer, also.” 

Babs jumped into the air. 

'‘Well, why not? I’d like to know,” she 
demanded when she was on two feet again. 
“ Of course we will.” 

“ Oh, I’d be scared,” Rosalie murmured. 

“ No, you wouldn’t,” Marjory contradicted 
her hastily. “ I thought I would, but I 


The Picnic at Silver Take 307 

wasn’t. Now listen. Malcolm McIntyre is 
going to come with the boys, instead of Mr. 
Lawrence, because he doesn’t want to be away 
from Aunt Jule two weeks. And we’ll camp 
near enough to call them. I think Mother 
and Mrs. Page would come along with us for 
chaperones, — we could get cots for them, you 
know. Look I Right here on this bluff is 
the ideal spot.” 

Oh, bully I ” Babs was dancing with de- 
light. “ It’s all shady and sunny ” 

** Hold up there,” Gerald cried, coming 
up. You’re getting dingbatty. Shady and 
sunny, — how can it be both?” 

“It can, and it is,” Babs retorted. “And 
that’s our spot. We chose it first.” 

“For what? Spot for what?” Gerald 
asked. “ You certainly are crazy.” 

“ Stupid I ” Marjory was on tiptoe with 
eagerness. “ You needn’t think you own the 
lake. We brought you here. We girls are 
coming here to camp too.” 

“ Oh, gee I ” Gerald’s face expressed infinite 
disgust. “ Say, Bob. These girls are going 
to tag along after us over here this summer. 
Can you beat it ? ” 


3 o 8 Babs at Birchwood 

“ Nothing doing,” Bob said promptly. 

Don^t worry,” Marjory’s eyes flashed. 
“ We don’t expect you to put up our tents or 
fish us out of the water or take one single well 
cooked meal with us. We only want to feel 
friendly manly presences in case of desperate 
need.” 

‘'Oh, well, maybe ” Gerald considered. 

“ How far away can we get ? ” 

“ So far away that you can’t see anything, 
and all you can hear is a horn or whistle or 
some such signal for help.” 

“ Come, children, save your scrapping till 
later. We must get on our way,” Mrs. Ken- 
nedy called. 

Talking busily about the new scheme, they 
were at last all crowded into the car, and 
ready to leave. 

“ Fire out? ” Babs asked as she climbed in. 

“ By George I ” Allen leaped from his seat. 
“ I’m a poor sort of woodsman ! That’s one 
thing I forgot. First time it’s ever happened. 
Say, Gerald,” he added, coming back to the 
car after he had hastily thrown water over the 
last glowing embers, “ how about letting Don 
and me in on your party this summer? Mac’s 


T'he Picnic at Silver Lake 309 

our master, you know, and if we want to be 
mean we can make him take us camping 
when you want him ! 

“ Come ahead. The more the merrier,” 
Gerald cried heartily. 

As they backed and filled, trying to turn 
their car around in the narrow road, Clara 
suggested that they run down on the beach 
and then back to the road again. The driver 
hesitated, but as it seemed to be the only way 
for them to turn, he drove his machine over 
what appeared in the fading twilight to be 
firm sand. In a trice he found his mistake. 
The weight of the car sank it in the sand to 
the hubs, and the suction of the water and 
heavy clay beneath made the task of getting 
it out seem almost impossible. 

The other car ^had driven on up the road 
and had turned in a wider space, and as it 
now snorted up and saw the trouble every one 
was out to help in a twinkling. By the aid of 
the jack and the frying pan and some flat 
planks of lumber they found along the shore, 
they finally freed the rear wheel and got it up 
on terra firma, but the front one had sunk 
still further into the sand. 


310 Babs at Birchwood 

Donald stood barefoot in water to his knees. 

“ Ladies, this looks hopeless to me. The 
only thing I can suggest now is for one of the 
men to make tracks back to the little village 
at the entrance to this lake and get some rope. 
Then the other car can haul us out.^’ 

Bright idea, Don, me boy. And worthy 
of my cousin,” said Allen approvingly. 
“ And while we’re waiting, we might as well 
be as comfortable as we can on those rocks in 
the moonlight.” 

So once more their young voices rang out 
over the water in song as they sat on the shore 
waiting for Parks and James to return with 
rope. Gradually their songs gave out and as 
they sat, talking in hushed voices in the still 
night, a loon sent its terrible shriek out across 
the waters. 

0-oh I ” Clara clutched Babs’ arm and 
even Gladys started. If that doesn’t sound 
like a woman being murdered. What was 
it?” 

“ That,” said Babs, dreamily, was a loon 
sent specially to give the finishing touch to a 
perfect day. It’s ’most as good as home now.” 

“ If you have those things at home,” said 


T’he Picnic at Silver L,ake 311 

Rosalie chattering, why, old New York is 
good enough for me I 

This spunky, slangy assertion given so 
tremblingly from the usually silent member 
of the party made them all laugh and in re- 
sponse they heard the shouts of the men com- 
ing along the road. 

“ Pity they couldn’t give you a ride back,” 
Allen snorted indignantly. 

“ They only ’ad one ’orse, and that was 
blind and lame,” Parks offered. “ We was 
lucky, Hi’m tellin’ ye. We was lucky to get 
the rope. Such a God forsaken ’ole as ever I 
was in.” 

It did not take long, with the help of the 
rope, for the Pages’ big car to haul the other 
out of its predicament, and once again they 
settled themselves into their places and fell 
quiet as they wound their way through silver- 
streaked woods back to civilization. 

“ That was really an adventure,” Clara ob- 
served when the lights of Birch wood flashed 
upon them again. It’s been lots of fun.” 
She turned to Babs and Marjory. '' I wish we 
could have more like that.” 

“ Same here,” Gladys murmured. 


312 


Babs at Birchwood 


No reason in the world why we can^t,” 
Marjory replied. Just wait till we get there 
camping.'^ She was delighted that the city- 
bred girls had so promptly approved of the 
Babsy picnic. It prophesied a happy two 
weeks in the woods. 

Here we are at school/^ Babs said. “Well, 
good-night, girls. Glad you liked it. Good- 
night, Rosalie. See you all Monday.^^ 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE PLAY 

When Marjory and Babs suggested the two 
weeks’ outing at Silver Lake to the assembled 
club, it was hailed instantly as the most bril- 
liant idea of the year. Straightway there 
arose the troublesome question of the source 
of the funds. It was suggested that they re- 
open the tea room, but the girls who had done 
the work before refused flatly. 

It was all right while it was novel,” Babs 
said. But we know just what work it 
means. Grubby work with nothing inspiring 
in it. Not for me,” she ended positively. 

Besides, it’ll be hot weather,” Clara said. 

** Well, but what then ? ” Gladys asked. 

“ There’s nothing else to do but give a play, 
and that’s done and done to death. Besides, 
you can’t get a decent one with only girls in 
it — and we don’t want boys.” 

313 


314 Babs at Birchwood 

Just here their Guardian came to the rescue. 

I know,” she said quietly, and they turned 
in relief to listen, sure as always of her quiet 
competence. We’ll give a play, but it won’t 
be a bit like the usual ones that are given. 
It will be on the order of our Wellesley Tree 
Day affairs. We’ll give it outdoors, and we’ll 
have dancing — and singing — and oh, I can see 
it now.” She closed her eyes a second. 
** There’ll be Camp Fire worked into it, be- 
cause I want families and friends to under- 
stand better what it is — and ” 

The girls were doubtful at her vagueness, 
but Phyllis reassured them in positive tones. 

‘‘ Just let me think a day or two on it, and 
I’ll have it. I’ll need you, Marjory, to help 
me write the thing.” 

As a result of her two days’ thinking, she 
met the girls the next time with her plans 
well formed and clean cut. The Boy Scouts, 
who had a small sized orchestra among them- 
selves, offered their services. The place 
chosen for the performance was on the Stock- 
ton lawns, where a hill sloped conveniently 
down to a pretty brook, on the other side of 
which was a level spot for the stage. And 


The Play 315 

the time set for the performance was three 
weeks off. 

It means work, girls,” Phyllis said ear- 
nestly. “ But it won't be all grubby work, as 
Babs says. You'll have the joy of seeing a 
finished piece of work afterward. Now get 
up here in line and we'll do some aesthetic 
dancing. I want to find out which ones of 
you know your hands from your feet.” 

When Phyllis said work she meant work. 
With warm weather upon them and final 
examinations approaching, the girls often 
found it hard to go over and over their parts, 
but they stuck faithfully and patiently at it, 
until the day for the performance finally 
dawned. 

It was a warm sunny afternoon, followed 
by a cool evening with the breeze sifting softly 
through the trees. At twilight, the hill be- 
side the big Stockton house was dotted close 
all over with figures. They crowded right 
down to the edge of the stream and as dusk 
crept upon them they began clapping im- 
patiently. 

Suddenly lights were thrown on the glade 
across the brook and coming down the little 


Babs at Birchwood 


316 

rise between the trees toward the audience 
was seen a Camp Fire Girl. Slowly, with the 
even gliding tread of an Indian, she made her 
way toward the waiting crowd and stood in 
immobile silence until all voices were hushed. 
Then Phyllis, her heavy hair in two ropes 
over her shoulders, sent her well-trained voice 
through the evening air, out to each and 
every one, in the prologue written by Marjory. 

“To the tinkling babbling brooklet, 

To the flowering green-shored riveiiet, 

Came six slender palefaced maidens, 

Came to play in gay abandon. 

Through the deep green virgin forest 
Stole a dark-haired Indian princess, 

Stole in swift sure-footed silence. 

Straight down toward the dancing maidens. 
When the palefaced girls beheld her. 

They in terror fled far from her. 

Coaxing, luring, gentle always. 

The Indian followed, asking, pleading 
That one of them should travel with her, 

Back to her Camp Fire companions. 

Timidly, yet with some gladness 
Caught by sparkle of her bracelets. 

One of these turned back and straightway 
There fell about her neck a necklace 
That held her with a magic charm 
And led her slowly, surely on. 


3‘7 


The Play 

By the Indian maid’s Camp Fire 
Alone she watched the smoke curl higher, 
Till lulled by breezes of the forest, 

Soothed by nature’s gentle noises, 

Paleface, weary, softly slumbered. 

Then stealing shyly from the shadows. 
Slipping quickly from the bushes 
Came some dream maids to the white girl, 
Waving gently dream clouds o’er her. 

Then, as swiftly in the darkness. 

Did they glide back to the forest. 

In her dreams Paleface awakened. 

Waked to see the Spirit of Fire 
Bushing, leaping, come to greet her. 
Watched her as she danced and dancing 
Summoned all her comrades to her. 

Work and Health and Love came singing. 
With their six handmaidens dancing. 

Came too. Spirit of Patriotism, 

Goddess of our deep-loved nation. 
Wondering, palefaced maiden watched them 
Till at last she caught the vision 
Of Camp Fire, its work and mission. 

Gladly, then, she ran to Fire 
Who only raised her arms the higher 
And swiftly sped them all away 
And left Paleface alone to stay. 

Lying by the warm Camp Fire 
Once more wrapped in peaceful slumber. 
Palefaced maid lay still, as Indians, 
Dark-haired, brown- clad, quiet Indians, 


Babs at Birchwood 


3*8 

Formed a circle round their Camp Fire, 

And held their sacred Ceremonial. 

At their sweet- voiced call — Wohelo 
Paleface awakened from her slumber, 

Gazed in wonder, gazed in silence. 

Till at last the brown maids called her, 

Called her to their friendly circle. 

Then the guardian took her hand 
And showed how in their forest land 
All their work was happy -hearted. 

All their play from health was started. 

Then Paleface with hands uplifted. 

Asked that she might bring her sisters 
To the Camp Fire’s radiant glow, 

Thus you see did Camp Fire grow.” 

As she finished the lights were turned off 
and in the blackness the audience sighed and 
rustled as it waited for the unfolding of the 
story. In a few moments soft music was heard 
and the lights were turned on again and from 
far away up on the left of the stage two white- 
clad girls came running lightly in. These 
two, followed by Babs and Marjory with hair 
flying loose and golden balls flashing fast from 
white arms to white arms, held the audience 
breathless with the surprise and beauty of it. 
Phyllis, behind the scenes, watched first her 
well-trained, graceful little dancers and then 


319 


T^he Play 

the spellbound audience, and sighed softly in 
delight. As the last two girls, skipping rope 
with garlands of roses, came from the dark- 
ness of the trees into the light, and in panto- 
mime decided to play a trick on their play- 
mates, and then dashed down to the group by 
the brook’s edge and in a frenzy of sparkling 
music wound them tight against trees and 
bushes, the first clapping broke out in a wild 
storm. 

Such a play as this was decidedly an inno- 
vation in Birchwood, and the beauty of it 
and its novelty appealed to every one at once. 
With programs in their hands it was easy to 
follow the story, and an eager hush fell as the 
music swiftly changed into a weird Indian 
thrumming. 

Molly, costumed in her Camp Fire dress, with 
feathers, bow and arrows and moccasins, was 
approaching through the trees doing a sway- 
ing Indian dance to the queer music. The 
white girls looked up startled, then Babs, 
strong in her fright, broke her rose bonds and 
dashing from one to another of her friends, 
freed them and fled with them to the safety 
of the woods. All but Clara followed in terror- 


320 Babs at Birchwood 

stricken silence. She was fascinated by the 
strange maiden, by her beads and bracelets, 
by her head-band and feathers, and slowly 
she drew near until Molly had finished her 
bow and arrow dance. Then in silent panto- 
mime Molly promised the admiring white girl 
a dress and decorations like her own if she 
would but come with her. At last Clara 
yielded and Molly threw about her neck a 
chain of beads and with this led her back 
into the gloom of the trees. 

Soft applause started, but was quickly si- 
lenced as almost at once Molly and Clara reap- 
peared. The stage lights were still dimmed 
so that Molly’s kneeling figure was barely 
made out as she knelt and in true Indian 
fashion lit the camp fire by rubbing two sticks 
together. Suddenly a spark fell, the flames 
leaped skyward and in the sigh of amazement 
that followed, Molly led Clara to a soft couch 
of leaves and left her there, weary and a little 
frightened, but soon lulled by the restfulness 
of the woods into slumber. 

The following dance of the five dream 
maidens with their rainbow-colored scarfs 
from which they shook imaginary sweet 


321 


The Play 

dreams over Clara’s head was perfectly done 
to sweet, sleepy music. Then, as they glided 
softly back into the bushes, the music sud- 
denly changed to a swift and lively air, an- 
nouncing the entrance of a bright figure. It 
was Marjory, Spirit of Fire, clad in red and 
yellow, with pieces of her dress streaming 
like fiame from her shoulders and waist. Her 
scarf was gray and black, smoke colored. To 
the Camp Fire song, — “ Burn, fire, burn,” she 
danced a wild dance before the fire and then 
spoke the first words th \t had been heard that 
evening. 

I am Fire, blessed by mankind since time began. 

Fire, the signal of comfort, 

Fire, the symbol of home. 

In my heart you find burning 

Only the fiames of love. 

Around my warmth gather three mighty spirits, 

Spirits that rule the world. 

They are the spirits of Work, Health and Love. 

Spirits ! Come hither ! 

Work, Health and Love, white clad and 
each carrying her symbol — spindle, basket of 
fruit, or glowing heart, — appeared and in the 
familiar words from the Camp Fire Manual, 


322 Babs at Birchwood 

made themselves known to Clara. The au- 
dience listened as intently as she, for through 
the personification of these spirits and the 
Crafts, the work and purpose of Camp Fire 
was explained to the grown-ups and others 
that evening. The girls were taught to speak 
slowly and distinctly and each caught the 
spirit of her part fairly well. The costumes 
brought rich applause, for Phyllis had spared 
no detail on this part of the program. Home 
Craft, in Dutch costume, carried a familiar 
can of Cleanser '' and a stick and wore real 
wooden shoes. Her dance, ending up in the 
pose so well advertised, brought hearty laugh- 
ter. And Hand Craft, dressed in a large pat- 
terned cretonne, made like a huge knitting 
bag, the loops of which went over her shoul- 
der, knitted bedroom slippers on her feet and 
bone spectacles on her nose, was quite as ef- 
fective a figure. All the other crafts. Camp, 
Business, Health and Nature Lore were appro- 
priately garbed, and their dances and Camp 
Fire songs were encored more than once. 

At last Clara, with face alight and arms 
outstretched, ran to Fire, around whom were 
grouped the spirits, the Crafts and Patriotism. 


The Play 323 

“ Oh I I see ! I see I '' she cried. “ Let 
me play with you I And work with you and 
love you all, beautiful spirits.” 

But Fire shook her head, sped them all off 
the stage unheedful of Clara’s disappointment, 
then turned toward her and said : 

If you would work and play and love 
with us about our Camp Fire you must un- 
derstand the great law of the fire that binds 
us all together.” Slowly she repeated the 
dignified Camp Fire Law. 

“ Ponder upon this, white maid,” she went 
on, turning back to Clara, and later when 
you are asked, tell whether you pledge your- 
self to follow this law. Now I must leave 
you.” She laid her hand on Clara’s heart 
and said softly : 

In your heart let there come the flame of 
love, — love of man for man, love of man for 
God.” 

She disappeared. Clara stood, with un- 
lifted face and one hand on the place the 
spirit had warmed. 

Oh — I feel so cozy ” she whispered. 

And happy. Why I ” She stretched her 
arms wide. ” I’m not afraid a bit of this big 


324 Babs at Birchwood 

black forest — or Indians in it. The forest is 
friendly and filled with kind spirits and the 
Indians are my sisters.'’ Smiling and hum- 
ming to herself she went back to the couch 
of leaves and sank down. Gradually, as the 
fire died, she grew sleepy again, but once more 
she spoke. 

“ I wish my white sisters could have seen 
the spirits. Perhaps I can take the light of 
love, home, here in my heart — to them.” 

Silence fell as she dropped to sleep and 
then came stealing quietly in the Indians in 
their picturesque ceremonial dresses with 
their hair in two braids over their shoulders. 
The audienije, to whom everything was new, 
watched the sweetly solemn rites eagerly, from 
the hand sign and the lighting of the fire 
through to the end. Of course Clara wakened 
at the soft call Wohelo ” and sat silently 
through the recounting of the winning of the 
honor beads. Finally the Guardian spoke. 

“ At our last meeting we discussed the ques- 
tion of sending our first Torch Bearer out to 
pass on the light of our fire undimmed to our 
less fortunate white sisters, who know nothing 
of our work and pleasure. Osehagea, have 


325 


T'he Play 

you found one white maiden who seems to 
you eager to become a Camp Fire Girl to-night 
and take you back with her to her white 
friends ? 

Molly rose and led Clara forward to the 
Guardian^s outstretched hand. 

Guardian. “ Is it your desire to become a 
Camp Fire Girl and to follow the law of the 
fire?” 

Clara. ** It is my desire to become a Camp 
Fire Girl and to follow the law of the fire, 
which is * Seek beauty, give service, pursue 
knowledge, be trustworthy, glorify work, hold 
on to health, and be happy.* This law will I 
strive to follow.** 

The Guardian then went to the fire and 
plucked a burning brand from it which she 
handed to Osehagea. 

Then, Osehagea, Torch Bearer, it is your 
work and privilege to pass on to this white 
maid and her sisters the light of work, the 
glow of health, the fiame of love, found in the 
circle about a camp fire.** 

Osehagea took the brand and leading Clara 
by the hand they slowly made their way to 
the back. The light dimmed as the Indians, 


326 Babs at Birchwood 

left seated in a circle, sang “ Mammy moon ” 
with the motions and sank down to sleep on 
the ground. Finally the stage was in com- 
plete darkness except for the flaming light 
that Molly held and that lit up their two 
figures as they gradually disappeared among 
the trees. 

For a space there was a hush, then such 
clapping and cheering broke out as the girls 
had never expected. 

Phyllis, to whom belonged the credit for 
the theme and the pretty dancing and the 
well-trained girls, received the praise mod- 
estly. 

I just want to tell you,’^ she said, with an 
arm about Marjory and Babs as she faced an 
enthusiastic group, that I don^t deserve all 
the compliments. I had splendid cooperation 
from each and all of my girls. They took 
two or three parts each of them and had to 
make lightning changes to do it.’^ She tilted 
Babs^ face up suddenly. “You look alto- 
gether adorable in that knitting bag, you 
monkey, but Fm sure it’s not very warm for 
ten o’clock in the evening. Scoot and get 
into your clothes.” 


The Play 327 

“ But tell me something first, please. Is it 
true that Molly is to become a Torch Bearer 
next meeting ? 

Phyllis nodded with her finger on her lips 
and Babs scooted. But before she was dressed 
Phyllis came back to the tent where the girls 
were scrambling around in a glorious mess of 
clothes and powders and shoes and told them 
that the Boy Scouts, who had acted as ticket 
collectors, had figured out that they must 
have taken in about seventy-five dollars. 

“ Oh ! Babs struggled to pull her head 
through her blouse. Seventy-five ! Why, 
our expenses weren’t twenty-five. We can go 
camping ! Oh, goody be to gracious. Isn’t 
that simply too utterly-too-too ? ” 


CHAPTER XXII 

HOUSE HUNTING AND GOOD-BYE 

Summer had fallen upon Birchwood, bring- 
ing with it all the discomforts of heat. Babs 
and her mother could not stay in the cool 
house as Marjory and Molly did, for they had 
only three weeks in which to find a home for 
them to come back to after their summer on 
the shore. Aunt Jule and Mr. Lawrence had 
decided to stay in Birchwood all summer, and 
they willingly let the Bensons use the cottage 
as they had originally planned. 

“ House hunting is no cinch, said Babs, as 
she wiped her perspiring face. “ Thank 
heaven we have Auntie^s car to go around in. 
Wouldn't we just die, Mumsey ? " 

Her mother nodded and sank back with a 
sigh into the cushions. The day had been 
particularly hot and trying, and Mrs. Benson 
was getting discouraged. The house the 
328 


House Hunting and Good-Bye 329 

Kennedys had picked out for them and ex- 
pected they could have, there had been some 
misunderstanding about, with the result that 
when they went to look at it, they found it 
already rented. 

It just seems/^ said Babs at dinner that 
night, “ as though there weren^t any little 
houses in Birch wood at all. They’re all huge 
affairs like this, with miles of lawn and 
stables and things.” 

Or else the little ones are shoddy or stuck 
off in the Italian district,” her mother sighed. 

It certainly is discouraging business.” 

** But there must be some little house to 
suit you somewhere in town,” Molly cried. 

” Find it, then,” said Babs. All the 
agents have wearied of trying to please us. 
Oh, Auntie, may I have some more iced tea ? 
I feel as though Fd never get cool.” 

Before they had finished dinner, they 
heard Gerald’s and Bob’s steps on the front 
veranda. It had become their habit to drop 
in in the cool of the evening, Gerald with his 
guitar. Bob with his mandolin. They sat in 
the big swings and low comfortable wicker 
chairs talking and singing spasmodically, 


330 


Babs at Birchwood 


while the older folks at the far end of the 
screened-in piazza conversed in quiet content- 
ment. 

There was a big moon due to rise at nine 
this particular evening and just as they 
caught their first glimpse of it through the 
trees they saw a car turn in at their gateway. 

“ Oh, who ? Babs cried. Can it be the 
Pages ? 

But it did not look like their car, and they 
rose as it drew up by the steps, — all but Molly 
who sat still in the shadows. 

Hello, Mac I Gerald was the first to 
recognize the solitary occupant of the low 
gray roadster. 

Oh, hello,^' the girls echoed, surprised. 

How do you do? Good-evening, Mrs. 
Kennedy. I^m taking you quite by surprise, 
I see. Mr. I^ennedy, how do you do? 

He was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Benson, 
and stood talking with them easily for a few 
minutes, while Marjory went to get him a 
cool glass of water, and Gerald found another 
chair. 

Thank you. Miss Marjory,’^ he said, turn- 
ing toward her as the older people started 


House Hunting and Good-Bye 331 

back for their corner. “ No, I won’t sit down, 
thank you. Isn’t this a glorious night? ” 

“ Well, if you won’t sit down, what did you 
come out here for ? ” Babs demanded bluntly. 
“ You don’t expect to stand up all the even- 
ing, do you ? If you do, you stand alone.” 

He smiled down at her as he answered. 

It was too wonderful a night to stay in 
the city. The country called me, so I came. 
Miss Molly,” he turned to her with his pleas- 
ing, deferential manner, “ I’m looking for 
some one who will ride up that golden path- 
way to call on the man in the moon with me. 
Will you come?” 

For the first time Molly spoke. 

Thank you,” she said in her grave, quiet 
way. I’ll ask Aunt Kitty.” 

As she rose to go to the other end of the 
porch, the four younger people were left 
silent. But Mr. McIntyre talked on easily. 

“ I wish my car were big enough to take 
you all with me. But unfortunately its ca- 
pacity is two.” 

“ While you’re out,” Babs offered, the first 
to recover from her surprise, see if you can 
find a little house — just big enough for Mother 


332 


Babs at Birchwood 


and Father and Molly and me, will you ? It's 
got to be pretty new, and pretty near the 
town, — not miles and miles, I mean, and 
pretty, too." 

“ It's got to be pretty nearly everything, I 
see," Mr. McIntyre observed. We'll do our 
best. May I help you ? " 

He turned and held Molly's rose-colored 
sweater for her. Without seeming to, he 
noticed her close-fitting little pink hat from 
under which her gray eyes looked out — great 
pools in the oval of her face ; her dimple 
that appeared and disappeared so entrancingly 
in the corner of her mouth ; her slim, erect 
young figure, tall and graceful. 

“ We’ll be back by ten-thirty, Mrs. Ken- 
nedy," he called out in promise. “ That's 
not too late, is it? " 

That will do nicely, Malcolm," she re- 
plied. And the gray roadster leaped down 
the driveway along the golden path of moon- 
light. 

Well, I'll be jiggered,” Babs murmured as 
they whizzed out of sight. “ How long has 
he been doing that, I'd like to know ? And 
the calm, cool way Molly tucked herself in 


House Hunting atid Good-Bye 333 

and went off, just as though she'd been ex- 
pecting him I " 

How do you know she wasn't ? " Bob 
observed. 

Babs stared blankly. 

“ Why, I don't," she answered. And it oc- 
curred to her that there were a great many 
things she didn’t know about Molly. Molly 
had done a year of growing up since Babs 
had felt close to her, and she realized that 
Molly's strides to young ladyhood had been 
rapid. 

‘‘ Come back, Babs," Gerald teased as she 
sat gazing starward. Then in mock agony 
he muttered — ^‘Oh, that I had a gray roadster 
and could whiz my love up the moon's path, 
all on a summer's " 

Dry up," Bob said, kicking him. " And 
tune up. Let's try ‘ Lindy ' again. We'll 
make that close agony harmonize yet." 

And again their voices floated out into the 
still night until they had sung all they knew. 

Are you boys going to be in town all 
summer?" Babs asked. 

“Surest thing you know," Bob answered. 
“ Why ? " 


334 Babs at Birchwood 

Well, I was thinking. Molly and I shall 
miss you 

“ Not us/^ Gerald interrupted. “ Not Molly 
— miss us. But will you ? You do us honor.” 
He bowed. 

“ Don’t be silly,” Babs reproved, or I 
won’t ask you to my house party.” 

“ Good ? I’m so good I’m cross-eyed,” 
Gerald said hastily. Ask me, won’t you 
please? I can’t hold them that way much 
longer.” 

'' Well, we’ll have Marjory and you two 
boys down for a week. Won’t that be 
fun ? ” 

“ Fun ? ” Marjory clapped her hands. Oh, 
Babs ! I’m going to miss you dreadfully this 
summer, but if I can see you once in a while, 
maybe those times will last over.” 

Babs reached for Marjory’s hand in the 
darkness. 

You bet we’ll see each other. I don’t 
know where we’ll sleep you. Molly says the 
cottage holds six at a pinch, but I guess you 
boys won’t mind sleeping on the porch, will 
you ? ” 

” On the hard, hard porch ? ” Bob mur- 


House Hunting and Good-Bye 335 

mured. “ Not on your life. I want a blanket 
at least.’' 

The girls laughed. 

“ Oh, Bob, you’re ridiculous. Of course 
there’ll be a cot.” 

** So much the better. I’ll be there. What 
about Donald and Allen? ” 

“ We’ll have them after you go. Oh, it’s 
going to be fun, fun, fun,” Babs chanted. 

Isn’t this world a great old place to live in, 
anyway ? ” 

Good enough for me,” Bob answered. 

Well, Gerald, isn’t it time we were peram- 
bulating?” 

No, I think we’ll stay till ten-thirty to- 
night,” Gerald answered calmly. “ The moon 
has bewitched me. I can’t move.” 

“ You young imp.” Bob leaned over and 
nipped his ear. “ Can’t move, can’t you ? 
We’ll see.” 

There ensued a sudden lively tussle out of 
all proportion to the heat of the night, and 
when it ended the boys found themselves 
rolling on the grass. 

“ Guess you’re fixed,” Bob remarked as he 
rose. 


336 Babs at Birchivood 

“It's only the heat of the evening forces 
me to desist, I assure you," Gerald answered 
loftily. “ What ho I Young Lochinvar re- 
turns." 

The gray roadster hummed up the drive- 
way, and as it slowed and stopped, Malcolm 
called out : 

“ I'm a man of my word, Mrs. Kennedy. 
I've a few minutes to spare, haven't I?" 

Smilingly she came forward from the 
shadows. 

“ You have, and I'm glad to see you so 
observant of the proprieties, Mr. McIntyre," 
she went on. “ So few young men are nowa- 
days." 

“ That's us, kid," the irrepressible Bob 
murmured. “ We shouldn't have ruffled up 
the lawn as we did." 

Mrs. Kennedy rubbed her hand over his 
hair affectionately. 

“ No, Bob, that didn't bother me a bit." 

Babs had been sitting on the top step a 
silent onlooker until now. Suddenly she 
spoke. 

“ Which did you find, Molly? The house, 
or the man in the moon ? " 


House Hunting and Good-Bye 337 

“ We found the house/’ Molly returned 
calmly. 

'' You did ! ” Mrs. Benson hurried up and 
the others gathered around. 

We did. We are happy to report that 
your winter domicile is discovered.” 

“Molly! Where?” 

“ The cutest little place, tucked against the 
woods, with a tiny garden and ^ cow and a 
few chickens.” Molly’s voice was excited. 
“ It’s a miniature Moose Lake farm, Mrs. Ben- 
son, and I’m sure you’ll be happy there.” 

“ I happened to know these people,” Mr. 
McIntyre’s quiet voice was explaining, “ who 
hadn’t given the place into the hands of any 
agent as yet, and there was no sign out. But 
they are anxious to rent. We stopped and 
talked with them, and they will be glad to 
see you to-morrow any time if you are in- 
terested enough to look it over.” 

“It’s just a seven minute walk to the 
station, and it’s a dear little new white house, 
sort of farmhouse looking, only really new,” 
Molly explained to Babs. “And it’s all 
furnished, ready for us to walk in to when- 
ever we want to.” 


338 Babs at Birchwood 

“ It sounds wonderful I Babs clasped her 
hands. “ And to think we shan’t have to 
hunt any more ! ” 

After the boys had gone, the rest questioned 
Molly about the little place, and her enthu- 
siasm put heart into the wearied and dis- 
tressed Mrs. Benson. The next day they went 
with her to the farm and found it all that 
Molly had pictured. Its neat simplicity 
pleased them all, and the modern comforts 
made Mrs. Benson’s eyes brighten. 

“ Well, Daddy,” she said to her lame hus- 
band at dinner that night, “ we have the 
lease made out for three years. If it suits you 
we’ll sign it at once and then proceed to pack 
up for the bungalow on the shore.” 

“ Mother,” Babs said, “ did you know I’d 
planned a continual round of house parties at 
the shore? I hope you don’t mind. Of 
course, Marje has to come, — and Donald and 
Allen, too. And now it seems,” she added 
with a teasing glance to Molly, “ must Mr. 
McIntyre come too.” 

” He certainly must,” Molly answered 
calmly. ” Because he’s going to teach me to 
sail.” 


House Hmiting and Good-Bye 339 

“Oh, hum!” Marjory sighed. “This is 
making me blue. Let’s go out, girls.” And 
with an arm about each, they strolled out in 
the evening air where Marjory continued. 

“ I s’pose I’m a pig, but I do hate to have 
you leave me for an instant even.” She 
squeezed Babs. “Just three tiny weeks till 
you go, Babsy. And your visit here is all 
over.” 

“ I know, but let’s not be gloomy, Marje. 
We have two of those weeks together camp- 
ing, you know. IshT.’Tl’l&ice,” she went on, 
changing the subject suddenly, “ to see lights 
in the Writer Man’s cottage and know he’s 
not alone any more ? ” 

They stood silent a space on the hillside, 
looking down at the nestling weeny wee house. 

Molly nodded in answer to Babs’ question. 

“ This has been a wonderful year for me,” 
she said softly. “ Just think, I’m all caught 
up in my lessons with you people, so I can go 
to college with you. I’ve had Camp Fire and 
all its fun and friends. I’m all used to New 
York and its ways. I’ve got a peachy new 
aunt and uncle, and I’m to live with you 
again, Babs.” 


340 


Babs at Birchwood 


Babs smiled happily in the darkness, her two 
dearest chums close beside her. And as they 
stood silent for a moment, the thoughts of 
each flew ahead to the time when they wouM 
be with ‘‘ Babs at College.” 


The Stories in this Series are : 

BABS 

BABS AT BIRCHWOOD 
BABS AT COLLEGE (in press) . 




A ^ . 


2 ~ 



